And Now for Something Completely Different
by ajremix
Summary: Random one-shots from G1 to Movie 'verse. Ch47- Mountain: No one notices what a mountain can do.
1. Worlds Apart

Against better judgment (and partly at Jason's request after so long in waffling over it), I've finally decided all the little random drabbles I've done on my lj will be compiled on here. I don't know why. I guess I'm just that bored. Each drabble, unless otherwise specified, will be completely unrelated to the others. All warnings, if warranted, will be placed at the beginning of each chapter.

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Title: Worlds Apart  
Fandom: Transformers: Movie 'verse  
Rating: PG, for the most part.  
Characters: Sam, Bumblebee, Sunstreak, Sideswipe, Prowl  
Summary: Post-movie. Everything is changing and Sam's not a part of it.

It wasn't easy trying to resort his life after it had gotten shuffled all out of whack months ago and trying to recall exactly what happened was like trying to remember a dream. The details kept slipping out of Sam's grasp and all he really knew was it was all so totally unreal.

Except every morning he'd find Bumblebee parked out in the garage and as unreal as it all was, Sam knew it happened. His life had changed. That much he was certain of. Ever since he'd come to trust Bumblebee with his life, ever since they've become friends Sam knew his life couldn't be the same.

And yet…

And yet he still went to school five days a week. He was still a loser- a loser with a hot girlfriend, but still a loser with the same loser friend. Even with the knowledge that he knew the most amazing alien lifeforms ever, even with the knowledge that they respected him for what he'd done for them, Sam's life really didn't change all that much. Still had homework, still making a fool of himself when he desperately didn't want to- in fact the only thing that really _had_ changed was that now his dad was getting on his case about getting a job to pay for insurance for his new car of which Sam can't even recall the bungling excuse he made for Bumblebee's new look.

Despite the mundane, he still had Mikaela and he still had the Autobots.

Well, Sam _thought_ he still had the Autobots. After everything that happened with the Decepticons and Mission City he respected that Optimus Prime wanted them to lay low, even as they called any of their surviving brethren to them. Sam met the first few waves of new Autobots, hung around with Optimus, Ratchet and Ironhide on the weekends whenever he could and thought he was truly their friend.

Except with the new Autobots coming in, Optimus and Ironhide became busy figuring out how to deal with the sudden influx, keeping tabs on them and Ratchet was more often than not holed up somewhere treating the 'bots that were damaged from travel or war or whatever.

Sam began to realize what he finally understood when Bumblebee would have to take-off in the middle of the day. Sometimes before school was over and Sam had to find excuses for his missing ride and another way to get home. Whenever he returned and Sam asked what was going on, Bumblebee would either go quiet or start name-dropping so fast Sam couldn't keep track of a thing. It really hit Sam when, on one of those long walks home, he spotted Bumblebee barreling down the street. Sam peered hard at him- there was no mistaking that bright yellow Camero. And it looked like… was he chasing two Lamborghinis? And was that a _cop_ right behind him?

Sam wasn't certain what exactly was going on, but he wasn't on good terms with cop cars anymore and whatever reasonit was, Bumblebee was driving like a maniac. Sam didn't want to be around to see what happened and began running in a panic.

Suddenly the red Lamborghini cut across in front of him and the boy skidded to a halt and tried to run the other way but the yellow one was there and they started circling him, occasionally swerving in, making Sam scramble away. Bumblebee and the cop were circling around them, honking angrily, lights and sirens flashing until Sam stumbled backwards and found himself inside one of the cars. He wasn't at all surprised there wasn't a driver. Not like he had time to be because suddenly they were off, swerving and weaving between cars like it was second nature (which, when he looked back, it probably was) and Sam had enough sense to buckle himself in before he started flailing at all the close calls.

"Sunstreaker!" A voice barked inside the car- one Sam didn't know. "Let the boy go or I swear to Primus I will knock you offline!"

"You hear that, Sideswipe?" Sam could feel the chortle vibrating through the seat. "High-and-Mighty might be mad at us!"

"I don't get it. The thing is so tiny and useless- there's no _way_ that could've actually- WATCH IT!"

Bumblebee exploded from out of an alley and the red Lamborghini spun out to keep from slamming into him. The yellow one swerved, crashing over a trashcan as he went. "Slagit! If that left a ding, you're paying for that, Bumblebee!"

It took a moment for Sam to finally gain his wits and find his voice. "You're," he swallowed, "you're an Autobot." As if his abductor could see him, he jabbed a finger towards the insignia on the gearshift. "What's going on?"

"Nothing for you to be concerned with." Came the snapped reply.

"Noth- Hey!" Sam kicked at the dashboard. "_You're_ the one that kidnapped _me_! I didn't ask for it!"

"Little punk! That better not have left a footprint!" In retaliation, Sam started kicking at anything and everything he could get his feet on. "Irritating, worthless piece of-"

The car drove into an empty lot, screeching to a halt and the moment the door opened, Sam jumped out so fast he nearly sprawled himself on the pavement. The car itself began to transform and a giant yellow and _angry_ robot was snarling down at him. Sam stood defiantly, certain that Bumblebee would come. After being tossed around by Barricade and Megatron, this thing was nothing special.

Except the next car to come breaking in was the police car instead. "Sunstreaker!" It didn't come to a complete stop, instead transforming as it went so it was in the yellow car's face when it came to full height. "What is the meaning of this?"

"No business of _yours_, Prowl. Sideswipe and I just went on a tour. Figured the little _hero_ here would be kind enough to give us directions." It had so much venom dripping from its voice that Sam winced and wondered where Bumblebee was.

"I'll bet. Running off like someone lit a fire in your tailpipes- you could've hurt someone!"

"Then why don't you show me who got hurt?"

"You twins get on my last circuit-" whatever other reprimand the cop car was saying got lost under the thrum of engines as the last two cars entered.

"Sam!" Bumblebee transformed as the boy ran toward him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah- what's going-"

The larger yellow robot stepped between them. "So this is your mighty Sam Witwicky, is it?" It said with a huff. "The powerful being that took down Megatron in one go and who Optimus indebted us to?"

"I'm not impressed." The red one joined it and Sam was surprised at how dissimilar they were to each other. Twins? Really?

"Back off." Bumblebee warned. "Both of you."

"Back off? If he doesn't like us, why doesn't he do to us what he did Megatron? The greatest fighters in our army," the yellow 'bot said and as he leaned down Sam knew he was being sneered at, "so many of our own dead and lost and all it took was this little… _flesh_ thing to end it."

A foot came down, nearly on top of the Autobot's head. He drew up until he towered over Bumblebee who, in turned, towered over Sam. "Back. Off."

"You don't find it insulting?" He hissed back at the guardian. "All we had wasn't good enough. But that worthless primitive-"

"Saved us." Prowl jerked Sunstreaker back. "And if you can't respect that, deal with Optimus Prime. He'll be hearing about this little prank regardless."

He shrugged the hand off. "Whatever. C'mon, Sideswipe." He glared at Sam from where he was peeking from behind Bumblebee's leg. "Guess the ape-thing didn't want to play." The two Lamborghinis transformed and drove off. Prowl paused long enough to offer Sam an apology before he transformed and followed them back to their base.

"Bumblebee," Sam asked, a little shellshocked at the ordeal, "who were they?"

"Prowl is one of the most indispensable Autobots we have. The twins… I'm sorry about them." He turned and then shifted into his far less attention grabbing alternate mode. "Let's go home, Sam."

It was then that Sam really came to understand that even after all that happened to him, he and Bumblebee were still in two completely different worlds. And even if he felt that his life isn't the same, all that had changed was part of something he still couldn't touch.


	2. Did it for the LULZ

Since I've got a sizable pile of drabbles already typed and waiting to be put up, these will be going up about once a day until I run out. Or forget. Which ever comes first. Thanks muchly for the reviews, as well!

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Title: Did it for the LULZ  
Fandom: Transformers: Movie 'verse  
Rating: PG-13  
Characters: Sideswipe predominately  
Summary: Post-movie. Sam warned them about picking things up off the internet.

Any Autobot would tell you that the word 'twins' equaled trouble. Not just trouble but the kind that either ends in a fistfight (and much cursing from Ratchet) or a prank everyone knows they did but can't get the evidence to prove it (with slightly less cursing from Ratchet and more glowering from Prowl).

When it really came down to it, though, most Autobots preferred Sunstreaker's brand of trouble to Sideswipe's. With Sunstreaker all you had to do was stay out of his way and don't even vent your circulator on his paint. Sideswipe pranked anyone and everyone. To make matters worse, ever since coming to earth Sideswipe's pranks have become all the odder and his words less comprehensible. Sam warned them that picking up everything from the internet could be dangerous. No one believed him until Sideswipe landed.

It started off with random comments like "angry Ratchet is angry," or "Blitzwing had us pinned and Bluestreak got scared, said your moving with your Auntie and Uncle in Bel-Air."

Everyone boggled and Sunstreaker said don't even bothering asking _him_ because he had no fragging clue.

Then it start spilling into battles with Sideswipe jumping Starscream, pounding on the Decepticon's canopy shouting something about the balls being fucking inert. Then came the random, obscenely long cat and bad-grammar phrases etched anywhere and everywhere.

(Bumblebee asked Sam during a drive if he knew why Sideswipe kept calling him pedobear. Sam spat soda all over his interior.)

He spent a lot of his free time on the internet, cackling and getting ever weirder each time. Whenever anyone asked what he was up to Sideswipe would say something vague about checking up on his 'eye'.

Everyone figured it was best to just leave the red twin on his own. Until Sunstreaker came in from patrol one day and found his brother looking too proud of himself for it to be safe. He knew he was going to regret it but asked, "What did you do?"

"Me? Nothing, really. Just pointed the way is all. Maybe did a little rabble-rousing."

"…what?"

They were interrupted by an excited Bluestreak. "Didja hear?" He asked, door panels high, "the Decepticon's main computer was hacked and crashed!"

Sunstreaker was speechless. Sideswipe's grin grew and his brother turned on him. "What did you _do_?"

"Like I said- nothing really." His grin threatened to eat half his face. "But it's amazing what a huge mass of humans are capable of."


	3. Paint does not Make the 'Bot

I'm glad people are enjoying these so far! Those last two chapters are the last of the Movie 'verse for a while (or... at all, i can't remember off the top of my head) so enjoy a deluge of G1 goodness.

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Title: Paint (does not) Make the 'Bot  
Fandom: Transformers G1  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Sideswipe, others mentioned  
Summary: Women love a man in uniform.

Carly had said, back when someone had noted that, on a whole humans seemed more comfortable dealing with Prowl than most other Autobots, that humans have a conditioned response to uniforms. Most tended to automatically assume that the wearer- in this case, Prowl –was responsible, intelligent, in control and a capable leader. They were people that others could depend on to deal with issues most others couldn't. Which was also why most human women found human males in uniform to be very sexy.

Sideswipe, who believed that anyone with the personality of a broken food processor (or Prowl), could not be any more sexy than a fun, energetic, handsome and devastatingly charming mech like himself to which Carly patted his ankle and said 'You keep telling yourself that'.

Which, ultimately, was a challenge. And Sideswipe never turned down a challenge. He gathered all the Autobots (that was guaranteed to not ruin this for him) into the common area and laid the gauntlet down for them. The human women are finding Prowl more attractive than the rest of them which, at the root of it all, was just Sideswipe turning this into some popularity contest- but the fact of the matter was Prowl was getting more attention than them! It had to be because humans were brain damaged some how. En masse. The black-and-white paint was like some subliminal sign because Prowl had the charisma of a of a piece of string. He said things and then looked at you in a way that said 'and I'll bet you did not understand a word that came out of my mouth'-

"No, Sideswipe," Trailbreaker said with a bemused look, "I'm pretty sure it's just you. Because you never pay attention to a thing he says."

"That's besides the point. The point is that Prowl's paint scheme gets him attention that he doesn't deserve." And then he smiled his biggest, most charming smile that made everyone automatically look around for any traps that were being sprung. Instead, Sideswipe stepped aside to reveal bucket upon bucket of white and black paints.

"Slag no." Sunstreaker said. Then turned to leave. Others moved to follow but Sideswipe blocked their way.

"C'mon, Sunny!" He put on his most winning look even as his twin growled at the nickname. "Are you just going to let Prowl take all the attention that naturally handsome mechs like you and me should get just because of some random paint placement?"

"You are not painting me black and white. It would be hideous and I would pull the cables out of your midsection and choke you with them if you tried."

Oh, that was just what Sideswipe needed. He gave Sunstreaker a look that translated to 'your words, not mind'. "So you're saying that Prowl can do black and white better than you can?"

"Prowl can't compete with me in looks." And then Sunstreaker's jaw clicked shut as he just realized what he walked into. "I hate you and I hope you die a very painful death."

Sideswipe formed a little heart on his chest with his hands before turning to the others. There really wasn't many against the idea (just Hound who claimed he was already technically a uniformed vehicle given his military jeep alt mode, Bluestreak who said it probably violated some rule impersonating an officer, Jazz who said he was already black and white, Tracks who refused to be painted until Sunstreaker started chewing out the pretty pansy, Bumblebee who couldn't seem to understand just what Sideswipe was hoping to achieve and, well, okay everyone seemed to be against it) but the end justified any arm twisting done to get everyone to agree.

So, the following day the Ark was filled with black and whites. Bumblebee, Bluestreak, Tracks, Hound, Trailbreaker, the twins, Cliffjumper, Jazz, Wheeljack- even the Dinobots through some Christmas miracle all went around in Prowls color scheme as if it were any other day. The twins even went so far as to put red chevrons on their helmets to be authentic.

When the first of the recolors passed by Optimus Prime and Ironhide, both of them just starred. When the second one did, they exchanged glances. By the time the fifth went by, they went off to find Prowl (almost got Bluestreak if it weren't for the shoulder mounts) with identical looks to which Prowl cut them off with a bland expression before they could even ask.

"No. I do not know." Nor did he particularly want to. He heard enough of it when Ratchet had laughed himself sick all over Prowl's desk after he saw black and white Aerialbots hanging around the energon dispenser earlier. They had all the details to the shield decals, mounted lights, even HIGHWAY PATROL and POLICE lettering across their sides. Obviously they all had too much time on their hands.

When Carly finally entered Ark and saw the abrupt color change, she stopped and put her hands up to her face, just standing and looking. Sideswipe, utterly confidant that the 2IC had absolutely nothing (but rank) over the Lamborghini now, strutted up to the human and beamed. "Well?" He asked, posing. "Now this is sexy, right?"

She starred up at Sideswipe with wide eyes for a long moment before bursting out with hysterical laughter. "All of you look _so_ ridiculous!"


	4. No Disassembly Required

SisterDear, Mdnyrydert: Yeah, there were parts in that last chapter where I couldn't seem to get the writing to flow right, not to mention some sentences I'm sure doesn't read as well but I can't really catch those because _I_ know what I'm trying to say. I don't use betas for these short drabbles. I keep telling myself I should, but... I was hoping the idea was strong enough that people wouldn't notice so, shhh! Don't tell anyone!

Jason, Azure: Remember all those signs? 'Speed enforced by aircraft'? Now we know what the Aerialbots do on their time off XD

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Title: No Disassembly Required  
Fandom: Transformers G1  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Soundwave, Cassetticons  
Summary: It began as a routine mission...

It began as a simple observation mission. Soundwave did his infiltration specialty (waited around in his alt mode until a human- always one required for the mission because his luck was just that smoking –picked him up and took him past whatever security to get to wherever he needed to be) and sat on a counter, overseeing all that went on around him. Then the human finished with whatever it was fleshlings did and- in a surprise move –picked Soundwave up.

Wait- that's not how it's supposed to go, he thought in a vaguely irritated way. The human was supposed to shut off the lights and leave, giving Soundwave ample opportunity to depart at his leisure. Instead he was loaded up into a vehicle, driven to some Rockwellian home in the suburbs and then promptly ignored.

Until the organic offspring took note of him.

Soundwave was never intrigued by the fleshlings (especially given their idea of recreational audio was like a personal insult to him) and even less so by their louder, impulsive and disrespectful progeny. They pressed every button on Soundwave, turned every knob, got their pudgy little appendages into whatever they could.

And then they pulled out a cassette.

"_Yo- what the- hey! Get the pinkies offa me!_" Rumble yelped, annoyance a heavy throb over his telepathic link with Soundwave. The communications officer was only able to stay still as he watched the two children turn Rumble over in their hands. As their prodding became more insistent, Rumble gradually began panicking. "_Stop that! Don't poke there, Primus slaggit! Argh- Soundwave! Ya gotta stop them! They're- they-_"

Soundwave's pump stuttered for a moment and horror wafted over him from the other cassettes. "_ARRRGH!_" The little creatures where pulling Rumble apart! "_I ca- Oh Primus! Save me- someone! They're GUTTING me, the slaggin' butchers! G'aaaaaaah!_" Rumble wailed, crying and screaming and Frenzy started crying out, trying to push his way out of Soundwave's compartment.

"_Hang on, bro! Buzzsaw- get yer beak outta the way! I'll save ya! Soundwave! Ya gotta let me out!_"

"_Negative._"

"_Wha- NO!?_"

"_Affirmative._"

"_AAAAAAAAA! I'm dying!_"

"_LEMME OUTTA HERE, FRAGGIN' TRAITOR!_"

"_FRENZY! Calm down! They're not gutting Rumble, they're just pulling the tape out of his alt mode!_"

"_………_"

"_Thanks, Ravage. Way to ruin life._"

"_Man, that was so not cool._"

"_Shut up. You ain't the one that's gotta re-wind yourself._"

Soundwave suppressed a sigh and knew it was going to be a long wait before he'd get the chance to head back to base.


	5. All that You can Hate

Glad so many people are enjoying these and thanks for all your reviews!

From the random pairing generator with the prompt of 'grudge'. Somewhat dubious content within.

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Title: All that You can Hate  
Fandom: Transformers G1  
Rating: PG-13  
Characters: Blitzwing, Skywarp  
Summary: The Decepticon's hierarchy gets shuffled around.

It's not that there was a lot of love or squishy feelings between trinemates, but sometimes enough was e-slagging-nough. Maybe it was elitist, maybe it was snobbish, but the three of them had the air covered- they didn't need the Coneheads and they didn't need Shockwave's smug-aft triplechangers. And Blitzwing was the worst of the two- always butting into conversations with some scathing remark that made even Thundercracker want to put a gun in the big shot's mouth and pull the trigger until his optics went dark. Or got blown out, whichever happened first. And Skywarp- the troublemaker that he was –knew how hard it was to slag TC off.

Today, though, it was the black Seeker that was looking to pull someone's vocalizer rudely out of their body by any orifice handy- or any painful one that needed to be made. The trine had been out working on maneuvers- was doing well enough even a whiney perfectionist like Starscream was adequately pleased –when the thick, triplechanging moron came out of no where and nearly ran them right out of the sky. Skywarp was the one that got the worst off. Blitzwing nearly rammed straight through him and Skywarp panicked, almost colliding with Starscream before he peeled off, lost control and nearly nose-dived into a hillside if some quick thinking and teleporting hadn't just sent him reeling into a grove of trees instead.

Back on the Nemesis the Seeker brushed off any concerns and orders to get Hook to look at him and went searching for Blitzwing instead. And he found him, lounging as casually as you please in the common area, blatantly snickering as Skywarp stormed up to him, looking like he just crawled out of the Pit.

"Do you need something," the triplechanger sneered nastily, "Tree-crusher?"

Hands slammed against the table and got the attention of anyone that wasn't already eyeing the proceedings. "What the slag is wrong with you?" Skywarp hissed, turbines spinning in irritation. "I don't care what the hell you think about us but stay the frag outta our way! We don't want your help- we don't _need_ your help and we sure as hell are sick and fragging tired of you sticking your ugly little snout where it doesn't belong! Your high-and-mighty attitude is going to get us all killed- don't even know where you get it being half a slagging ground-pounder-"

A large hand slammed over Skywarp's mouth component, lifting him in the air and smashing him down on the table. Suddenly Blitzwing was looming over him, pressing him down so the edge of the table bit into his back and a small part of Skywarp realized just how much bigger the triplechanger was.

"No, no, Tree-crusher." Came the soft, venomous reply. "You've got it all wrong. You see- I'm better than you and I'm better than you little weekend-flier friends. I can do what I went, when I want and that means," his hand squeezed painfully until Skywarp's dermaplating buckled, "whatever I decide to do to you- any of you –is of no consequence to me." To ensure his point was understood, Blitzwing rocked against Skywarp, leaning forward enough to run his glossa over the edge of the black helmet in a long, slow lick.

Skywarp shuddered despite himself. "You're sick." His voice was shakier than he wanted it to be.

"And you're weak. Guess who's got the bigger problem?" With a rude laugh, Bltizwing shoved himself away, booming voice echoing through the room as he left. Skywarp pushed himself upright, humiliated and wished the other 'con dead.


	6. Fearless and Fragile

Random idea that popped into my head while in the shower one day. As that, driving and being half asleep seems to be where most of my ideas cultivate... Takes place before the kidnapping of Senator Decimus in Megatron Origin.

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Title: Fearless and Fragile  
Fandom: Transformers IDW  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Megatron and Starscream with Soundwave, Skywarp and Thundercracker in the background  
Summary: Before the betrayals, before the fighting. They could have understood each other.

They stood on some derelict building and watched the three jets twist about in complex formation over airspace outside of the Autobot Security Force's regular patrols. Soundwave felt no need to explain how he knew the existence of such places or when there'd be a lapse of diligence and Megatron felt no need to ask so long as things worked in his favor. Megatron watched the display until he felt the need to say, "Soundwave- deploy Laserbeak and Buzzsaw for agility maneuvers. Starscream, to me."

The blue mech next to Megatron merely nodded and his chest compartment opened, letting out the aerials and watched them fly at and weave around Thundercracker and Skywarp. The red jet peeled off from them with an 'Affirmative'. Excitement was barely contained in his vocalizer.

He transformed before the pair, touching down with such ease and lightness the ground was barely disturbed beneath him. "Yes, Megatron?"

"What were your previous occupations?" His optics stayed trained on the black and blue jets in the sky, easily turning each of the winged mini's flight paths around until they were the ones being chased. These three were no simple fliers.

Flickering a look at his own wingmates, Starscream answered, "Skywarp was a supply runner for some time, acting as a convoy guard until he decided to be a mercenary flier. Thundercracker was once a part of the Security Force deployed along some of the less stable planets. He had quit and was freelancing with Skywarp by the time I met them. I was a scientist, primarily documenting and categorizing primordial worlds. There isn't an atmospheric condition that has yet to best me." He added with a smug grin.

"And the three of you are fighters, are you?"

"There is no one that can out fly us." Came the boast. "Your recording friend over there," Soundwave's gaze slide to give Starscream a flat look but he did little else, "was told to find the best aerial combatant, correct? He came to us and was told a flier is only half his true potential without competent wingmates. Isn't it then more of a question of how much you trust him?"

Megatron's lips curled and he finally turned to Starscream. "I am no fool. I know Soundwave is an opportunist and so long as he believes there is a profit and a future in what I do, he will remain unwaveringly loyal. I didn't ask about your ability to fly- I can see it as well as anyone. Your two wingmates have had designations where they've been put in combat situations. Have you?"

Starscream hesitated and that said as much as his quiet, "No. Not as such."

"Why did you stop being a scientist, Starscream?"

"Because of you." All the ego and all the anticipation had faded from the jet's expression and beneath the carefully blank expression Megatron could see a smallest glimmer of fear. "I was told of the underground deathmatches and the first one I went to was the first one you fought. Your strength, your presence- you were overwhelming and I admired that power and ability. I saw what you were and I suddenly found what it was I wanted to become. There is little admiration for a scientist whose main talent is flight. It's a hollow joy on top of hazardous and unappreciated work. Shuffled from one system to another and back again, spending stellar cycles making painstaking documentation just to be told to go elsewhere and double-check someone else's notes." In Starscream's words and mannerisms Megatron saw something similar to the empty, routine existence that was once his own deep in the mines. In Starscream he saw that glimmer of fear and recognized it as his desperate want to be accepted and trusted upon by Megatron.

He saw a glimpse of the jet, the part that was raw and vulnerable and so very open and could see the way he could mold or break that fearless and so very fragile spirit of the young mech before him. Megatron turned back to the jets above. Thundercracker had abandoned the exercise with Laserbeak and Buzzsaw and instead was chasing after Skywarp who was twisting and hooting in front of him. The two smaller fliers rested wearily on Soundwave's shoulders.

"Hook will upgrade all three of you. Soundwave has procured some interesting technology that I want to have tested. Once you've been deemed fully fit and compatible you will have the honor of launching the first step that changes an era." Megatron nodded to the blue mech. Soundwave wordlessly slid his two companions back inside his chest compartment and transformed to begin the long ride back to the city. Megatron lingered enough to say, "I trust your abilities, Starscream. Do not fail me."


	7. Don't Let Me be Misunderstood

The idea had been niggling at me for a good while but I'm not a very big fan of the execution, myself. But, perhaps, some of you will enjoy it regardless.

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Title: Don't Let Me be Misunderstood  
Fandom: Transformers IDW  
Rating: G  
Characters: Prowl, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker  
Summary: Perhaps it's surprising, what they really think of each other.

There were a few things everyone needed to know about the twins and a few even more things if one was to work with them. One was that they had little self-preservation instincts. Another was they had even less common sense. A third was they had very little respect for their superiors. There were, of course, always exceptions to this. They followed Optimus Prime's orders because, well, what was the point in being an Autobot if they didn't? And they did anything Jazz asked of them more often than not just because there were very few that could ever tell him no without tacking on a 'sweat' or 'problem' afterwards. Kup was another because he trained them, and he understood them on a level so few didn't. He was patient with them even when it didn't seem like it and he helped them when and where he could because that was the kind of mech Kup was.

A little more difficult to see and very much more surprisingly they respected Prowl. Not as an individual- no, they thought he was uptight, a prick and an utter bore. They liked and respected him as a leader and their direct superior. He didn't play favorites with them and, conversely, he didn't play favorites against them. Even if he knew Sideswipe was off playing pranks on someone again, he never attempted to punish him without any sort of evidence pinning the melee fighter to the crime. To Sideswipe it even became a sort of game, trying to exploit every loophole, make each prank more extravagant than the last, all just to see how he could evade Prowl. He had only confided once to Sunstreaker he felt like sometimes Prowl would let something slide purposefully. He never had any proof of it himself, but sometimes he could've sworn he'd see the telltale ends of a smile threatening to twitch at the officer's lips.

Sunstreaker was very much a different story than his brother and had to be dealt with differently. Conversely to popular belief, whenever Sunstreaker went down to the brig after he fought someone, it wasn't out of punishment. Prowl had started it by sending the yellow twin in a cell to blow off steam until he felt cooperative enough to tell the black and white his version of the story until it became a habit. Until Sunstreaker took himself to the cells before he mauled someone and Prowl would find him there and listen to his complaints. Sometimes, if Prowl felt it was deserved, Sunstreaker would get an actual punishment. If Prowl believed Sunstreaker was not at fault, he'd allow the fighter to go about his day and everyone else figured brig time was the punishment. And though Sunstreaker was infamous for his temper and being easily provoked- especially by a few select 'bots –Prowl rarely punished him on his own. Whoever had deliberately taunted him into a fight was always given some form of disciplinary action as well.

Prowl was, to them, fair. Consistently fair. As fair to the twins as he was to anyone else. He didn't treat them as if they were special, as if they needed to be dealt with harshly. All their other officers quietly shuttled to two off to another unit as quick as they were able to but Prowl handled them as easily as any of the others in his command. And for that they respected him. Sideswipe might have some strange obsession trying to break Prowl's legendary cool, but they followed the orders he gave them with little question and only a few snarky remarks and on the battlefield they did everything he asked of them flawlessly.

It was one of the very few reasons why the twins agreed to being split up for the first time in their existence. Sideswipe got along better with most other Autobots, but Sunstreaker was a wildcard even among the veterans. With Prowl leading the detachment and a roster consisting of 'bots that had the sense to keep from starting something up with him, it didn't seem like they had anything to worry about. Sunstreaker was less convinced of Sideswipe's situation, being put on a moveable roster, capable of being sent to where ever needed his power at any given time but it could be worse. It could always be worse and at least Sideswipe had as few officers between himself and Optimus Prime's direct command as possible.

Sunstreaker had asked Prowl how often he'd be allowed to get in contact with Sideswipe. Prowl told him, time and conditions permitting, whenever he wished. Sideswipe had asked Prowl if he'd keep a close eye on Sunstreaker. Prowl told him he'd look out for him just as he always had.

He treated them no differently than he treated any others under his command and for that the twins willingly put their lives in his command.


	8. Menage a Trine

Originally written for the TF Anonymous Kink Meme on lj. In short: unadulterated smut. With alt modes.

Bluebird: Yeah, I've combed through that last chapter so many times trying to smooth the readability of it to the point where I've given up trying. I'd probably have to rewrite it to make it flow much smoother.

Jason: Man, believe you me. That's one of the many drabbles floating around my head that I've yet to make the time to do. Unfortunately it's also one of those that go in and out of my mind, so hopefully next time I don't have other things to work on, that idea will be in my head at that moment.

* * *

Title: Menage-a-Trine  
Fandom: Transformers: Movie 'verse  
Rating: R  
Characters: Skywarp, Starscream, Thundercracker and cameos by Ironhide and Ratchet  
Summary: Jet sex. Can you dig it?

It had been a long time since the three of them had last flown together. Almost too long- getting back the feel of their formation had been much like having to flex new wings. It was stiff and painful and things didn't work as well as they used to and it was frustrating because one knew how it used to be, how it felt and should feel and it just wasn't. But, to Starscream's great surprise and relief, the feeling quickly subsided. In truth the other two's skills had exceeded his recollection, Skywarp's control had become tighter while Thundercracker's maneuvers flowed looser. Streaming over the primitive skyline the Seekers twisted together, pushing their limits, seeing just how far their skills have grown since their separation.

Primus did Starscream miss this. For all his talk of independence and self-sufficiency he missed being able to fly in a full formation. There was nothing like having wingmates one could trust and he trusted no one else to fly with him the way Skywarp or Thundercracker could.

Skywarp, as playful as ever, would break formation every now and again to drift in as close as he could to one of the others. Several times Starscream had jerked himself back, snapping at the dark jet to watch what he was doing and each time Skywarp would just laugh right back at him. It wasn't until he watched Skywarp do the same to Thundercracker and Thundercracker in turn maneuvering until they were just short of actually scraping against each other that Starscream realized it was just another test of control. He sidled up to them after, proving himself the bravest, most daring of the three. He even managed to make Skywarp bank slightly when he purposefully flicked his aileron against the curve of his fuselage. Starscream chuckled to himself as Skywarp fumed. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten what it was like to fly like this.

"I think he's finally loosened up." Thundercracker's low rumble said over their shared link.

"Maybe a little. But not enough."

Starscream scoffed at them both. "I fail to see your need to worry about _my_ performance."

"You've been flying solo too long, Starscream. You need to remember what it's like to fly with someone else." The steel blue jet at his side elevated and banked until he was flying parallel above the Air Commander. Starscream could feel the movement of heat and air from Thundercracker's thrust over the sensors lining his tails. Skywarp had pulled further ahead and did a stall turn but didn't stop as he went knife-edge, rolling until he was inverted, slowing until the other two caught up to him again, the three flying stacked. "And I mean," Thundercracker's voice vibrated over their comm, "really remember."

Starscream was going to comment with something intelligent, he was certain, but Skywarp pressed in close- nearly belly to belly –and let his energy field _crackle_ against Starscream's. Whatever remark he was making was cut off with a choked sound as circuits that rightly shouldn't be in use in this form _sparked_ all at once. The sensation shot right through Starscream's processor, causing his internals the clench painfully, pleasantly for an agonizingly brief instant.

"Wh-What-"

"You like that?" Skywarp asked, voice teasing and flying as easily inverted as he could upright. "Guess it's been a while for you, hasn't it?" But he extended his energy field again, cutting off any snapped retort and Starscream, in response, flexed his own. Starscream's altitude faltered just enough for metal to scrape against metal and every sensor sang at the friction. Skywarp groaned ever so slightly.

Starscream stretched his energy field, letting it crawl over the dark jet under him, invasive, exploring, touching all the seams and recesses and hidden crevices of the aircraft. He could feel Skywarp's circuits sparking deliciously against the caress of his energy field, heard his soft whimper, saw the fine tremor on near-black wings.

And then Skywarp's gate generator activated. Not entirely, they still flew the path that they had set, they hadn't teleported anywhere but Starscream could feel the particle build-up, could feel his own body thrumming with a sort of electricity. It was not an unfamiliar feeling having jumped with Skywarp a number of times before, but that was almost instantaneous, the sensation was mainly a second thought. But this- this slow build up, the gradual reverberation of his body responding to Skywarp's almost felt as if Starscream was on the verge of shuddering apart. He could feel himself pulling and constricting and then he could feel _everything_. The air as it passed around him- _through_ him –the heat and vibrations from Skywarp and Thundercracker, the moisture in the air, the sharp crisp of the altitude- he felt it all and it threatened to overwhelm his sensors. He cried out loud, couldn't help it, could hear the crackle of energy over the howl of air and their engines.

And when Thundercracker _roared_ over them the very vibrations shook every inch of Starscream's body. He could feel the vibration going through Skywarp and shaking the air between them, making each molecule Skywarp was already making sing fairly _burst_ from utter _sensation_-

The next thing Starscream knew he was on the ground, engines off and every circuit still thrumming that high, ecstatic note, fighting to keep that feeling running electric laps through his internals as long as it could. Skywarp was still under him but had transformed at some point. He was on his back still, but vents were cycling noisily and he was running hot. It was then Starscream realized he was even worse off, joints jellied and unable to comply to his command to transform. Skywarp felt the struggle in his arms and gave the lighter-colored jet a lopsided grin.

"Having some problems?" He teased, light tone made all the lighter by the air streaming through his internals.

"No." Came the reply less dour than intended. Had he done a complete reset in midair? "What was that?"

"It was impressive is what it was." Starscream's sensors picked up Thundercrack just behind them, also transformed and sitting next to a long gouge in the earth that lead to where Skywarp and Starscream lay. "It really has been a long time, hasn't it? Skywarp didn't even crash the first time."

That knowledge made Starscream's high fall in somewhat short order. Finally he forced himself to ask, "What happened?"

"You lost it." Skywarp supplied helpfully. "Actually, I kinda lost it, too. Hadn't overloaded that hard in a while. Primus, I felt your energy field in my _compressors_!"

Starscream, having decided to give up on transforming for that moment, asked, "You two do this a lot, I take it?"

When Skywarp shrugged he made Starscream shift. It sent pleasurable spikes through their oversensitive sensors. "Whenever."

"What's important," Thundercracker pressed against Starscream's body and let his harmonics give a infrasonic rumble that made the other two jets moan in their vocalizers, "is that we're a trine again."

Oh yes, Primus- did Starscream ever miss this.

* * *

"Ironhide- _Ironhide_."

The sound of Ratchet snarling in his head made Ironhide snap back to reality. "What?"

"Finally! Primus- I thought you broke something in that thick cranial unit of yours. You weren't answering your comm for over an hour!"

"Sorry." The weapons specialist muttered. He kept his optics on the three Seekers, wondering if they'd climb back in the air again. "You need something?"

"Yeah," the medic groused back, "we'd like to know what those three Decepticons you're supposed to be observing are doing. You _are_ still doing that, aren't you?"

"Yes, Ratchet." Ironhide said distractedly, engine thrumming hot as he watched three different energy fields sparking against each other playfully. "It's nothing, just air maneuvers." He bit back a disappointed groan as the jets move skyward again, this time keeping to regulation formation. "Looks like they've finished up, I'm heading back to base."

"Alright. I'll let Prime know. Ratchet out."

Ironhide transformed and tore his way back onto the main road. Was he ever lucky not to have monitor duty tonight- especially since he had the foresight to make a capture of that entire exchange.


	9. 1 Sentence Challenge

Some time ago I did a 1 Sentence Challenge on my livejournal because I was really bored. So here's a compilation of the TF prompts I was given. btw, I cheat terribly at these 1 sentence things. The more slashy stuff will be toward the bottom since that's not everyone's cup of tea.

* * *

Title: 1 Sentence Challenge  
Fandom: Transformers G1, one Movie-verse and a couple comic-verse Grimlocks  
Rating: PG? Maybe PG-13?

**Ratchet, Ironhide and Baby 'Bee - Babysitting**

The CMO just stood back, watching in amusement as Ironhide tried to pry the happily clicking sparkling off his weapon without damaging the little thing. "Let that be a lesson to you," he told the weapons specialist, "not everyone thinks you showing off your cannons is a threat."

**Rumble and Frenzy - Anything**

Soundwave looked up to the sound of stomping feet and the door to the command center opening to reveal a highly murderous Starscream. Rumble and Frenzy, somehow, were attached to his wingtips by their feet, flailing and wriggling to get loose and making the Air Commander wobble in a way that made his irate march fail. The two Cassetticons, upon seeing Soundwave, opened their mouths-

"Explanation: not recommended."

**Lamborghini Twins - Video rentals**

Sometimes Prowl hated being the responsible one, especially since he knew he couldn't pass some of the more idiotic incidences to anyone else (Jazz, for instance, would just laugh) and most of them were just too inane to be brought up to Optimus Prime.

Such as this one, "A video rental place is where you _rent_ videos," he told the twins, "meaning they must eventually be returned and while you technically far exceed the age requirements, the both of you are no long allowed to watch anything with adult content until your processors reach some level of maturity."

**Optimus Prime and Grimlock - Dominance**

Grimlock hated to admit it (he, in fact, wouldn't) but sometimes when he'd see Optimus with his back to the wall, when his comrades and friends were faltering around him, when someone threatened those he held close to his spark, he could see the traits that made him Prime. He could see, just for a moment, what made him powerful.

**Perceptor and Grimlock - More than capable**

While Grimlock's speech pattern gave the illusion he did not have full cranial unit capacity, those that cared enough to talk to him, to know him, understood that all it did was hide a sharp and highly flexible processor. And, in the rare and quiet moments between them Perceptor had come to realize that more than that illusionary simpleton, more than the merciless nature, it was the thoughtful intellect deep inside that he respected and cared for the most.

**Fireflight/Sandstorm - Run for it!**

It's not that he was afraid of the rest of the Aerialbots (though he kinda was), Sandstorm just loved to bust through the group of them, loop an arm around Fireflight's waist and run off with the red jet as the rest of them shouted at him to unhand their wingmate. Of course the way Fireflight would laugh in delight and then fly off with the triplechanger, leaving the rest of his squad shaking their heads in bemusment in their wake, made it all the sweeter.

**Rumble/Frenzy - Bondage involving their tape**

The two Casseticons exchange glances, a little surprised (and proud) at Motormaster's rant on if the two little glitches kept bothering him he'd tear out their tape, tie them to the ceiling and let the rest of his team violate them in every way their wicked, dirty processors could come up with.

They looked at each other, looked back up at Motormaster and asked, "Promise?"

**Fireflight/Sandstorm - Shenanigans**

Sandstorm raised an optic ridge just as calmly as ever and Fireflight shifted a little sheepishly and couldn't help giggling. The triplechanger- rather used to hairbrained schemes and outfield shenanigans -just told him, "Next time you want me tied to your berth you don't need to get Air Raid to wrestle me down- you could just ask."

**Prime/Starscream - Pride/punishment**

"Come now, Prime," Starscream purred as he watched the Autobot leader writhe under a hand that stroked sensitive cables, "beg for me and I assure you things will go along much better."


	10. Doorwings for Dummies

This one was in reply to a plot bunny posted on the transfication community some time back. And, since a reviewer pointed it out when I first posted this, this Jazz doesn't have doorwings. Thanks for sticking around and reviewing!

* * *

Title: Doorwings for Dummies  
Fandom: Transformers G1  
Rating: G  
Characters: Jazz, Prowl, Smokescreen, Bluestreak, Mirage  
Summary: The resident Datsuns have a secret code that Jazz is determined to break.

Jazz- being Jazz –didn't like to stay idle. Mentally, that is. He liked to kicked back and relax, but his processor was always going. His most favorite thing to kick back, relax and think on was watching others and his favorite thing to watch was Prowl. Because as stoic as the tactician was, there were still so many tells in his movements that said more than his words or tone did.

Which was why he noticed something strange when he was in desperate need to watch and think. It was something he'd seen hundreds of times before and after he noticed it that once Jazz didn't understand how he had missed it in the first place.

Smokescreen had gone up to the interceptor and handed him a datapad, standing silently at Prowl's elbow for a minute before going on his way. He hadn't said anything and in fact rarely did in these kinds of passing moments and Jazz- like many others –didn't think anything of it. Until he realized that while neither mechs said anything there was an awful lot of twitching of the doorwings going on.

It's not that Jazz never knew they could move, after so many centuries knowing and watching Prowl it's not like he never had the chance to notice. But he had assumed most of the twitching was an unconscious reaction. The reason doorwings weren't so prevalent now was because it tended to cause strain on the hinges and there were often maintenance issues regarding them. So Jazz had always assumed doorwings twitched in order to flex some kink or get fluids moving unhindered. But what he saw between Prowl and Smokescreen was nothing like that.

So Jazz watched Prowl a little closer. And Smokescreen and Bluestreak, too. He had found out that out of the three of them, Bluestreak's doorwings tended to flicker the least. That is, when he was talking. Whenever he was alone and Jazz could see some dark memory the young gunner was unable to hold at bay flash behind his optics, his doorwings would dip back and twitch at any sudden sound or movement. Whenever they were around Bluestreak, Prowl and Smokescreen's doorwings fluttered a lot, almost reassuringly. Smokescreen's moved the most, the height and angle of them switching around depending on who he was with. Prowl's, generally kept high and angled behind him, moved straight back when he was thinking and flared high and wide when he was reprimanding someone.

It was like their doorwings had a language all their own. He kept watching, keeping a detailed diagram of the different positions of these peripheries in order to decipher them. This kept him happily occupied for weeks and Jazz hurried to finish his work for the day in order work on this new project of his. The first week of this, Prowl's doorwings had gone high and back, realizing Jazz had done all his tasks with the same perfection and attention as he always gave it. Jazz noted this every time it happened.

He noted whenever two of the three would meet- be it passing in the halls or to speak on the command deck –their doorwings would always bob up and out. This Jazz decided to note as a greeting. Oddly enough he found that Prowl always kept his high, Bluestreak's low and Smokescreen's would go from high to low depending on which of the two he was with at the time. Whenever the three were together the blue mech would keep his doorwings somewhere between the height of the other two. Jazz wondered if this was some implication of rank and tentatively put it down as such.

The more Jazz tried to decipher this strange mystery, the more frustrated he ended up getting. He tried to understand the movement of their doorwings using verbal clues, but as he listened and watched he didn't know what the appendages would be saying that they already weren't. He recalled once when they had returned from a skirmish and Bluestreak had minor wounds, Prowl had asked him if he was hurt in that authoritative 'why-did-you-do-something-so-obviously-very-stupid' tone of voice but his doorwings were flexing in and out. Bluestreak had replied that he was alright but he didn't sound at all cowed and his own doorwings waved in a strange, repeat pattern Jazz never recalled seeing before. And he had no idea what it was suppose to mean.

Once Smokescreen had to have both his doorwings removed because he'd been t-boned by a Stunticon and having only one doorwing messed up his equilibrium something fierce. He was so utterly frustrated by that- a strange, desperate anger as Jazz had never seen on the diversionary tactician before. Every time Prowl or Bluestreak was with him, their doorwings tilted down and flapped from side to side. That Jazz couldn't decipher either.

So, almost two months into figuring these odd dances and not coming any closer than when he started, Jazz had almost reached the point where he was ready to just _ask_ one of them for a direct translation. Because anyone that noticed this could tell that it meant _something_. He sat in the common room, a datapad full of diagrams, context and potential meaning before him when Mirage sat down, leaning to look at what it was that had Jazz so focused.

Jazz just let him look until Mirage sat back with a curious stare. "What are you trying to do?"

"Figure out what our resident Datsuns' doorwings are saying."

A small smile quirked the side of the sniper's lips. "They're not 'saying' anything, you know."

"I disagree. Things don't move like that without a purpose."

"Oh, they have a purpose. But that doesn't mean they say anything." Jazz looked at him uncomprehendingly. Jazz realized he didn't like that feeling. "You know how Spike and Carly tend to move their hands when they speak? Doorwings are like that- they're an emoting device."

Somehow Jazz couldn't accept that it was that simple. "An emoting device."

"That's right."

"So when Smokescreen and Prowl have entire conversations by flicking their doorwings, it's just them emoting to each other?"

"Pretty much. It's like any other body language, really. If you can read it well enough, you don't really have to say anything."

That was true. Jazz knew that intimately well himself. "How do you know so much about this?"

There was a pause. Then Mirage spread his hands with a slightly guilty grin. "I got curious and asked Bluestreak about it once. If you want," Mirage look partly sly, partly embarrassed, "I've actually got a diagram of my own in my quarters trying to figure out the different emotional nuances of those things. We could possibly compare notes…?"

Jazz's lips spread into a long, wide grin. "Sounds like a plan."


	11. Can't Run Now

This was inspired by a plot bunny from Sakon. The irony of this is that I don't even LIKE TFA. But... sometimes- just sometimes -an idea lets you endure some surprising things...

* * *

Title: Can't Run Now  
Fandom: Transformers: Animated  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Prowl, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, ensemble  
Summary: Two new 'bots arrive on Earth and they've got a bone to pick with someone.

The perimeter scans already announced it but Bulkhead still felt the need to shout at the top of his vocalizer, "Jazz is here!" The Autobots that weren't already in the main room ambled their way over as the white sports car pulled in with a drift as wickedly cool as any Smoothie. The Guard raised a hand in greeting, an overly amused and secretive smile on the sharp cut of his face.

"Autobots." He said with relish. His grin faltered just the slightest as he noticed Sari smiling cheekily back at him. "Sari." The grin came back twofold when he saw Prowl. "I've got some news for you all," he said, though his optics didn't leave the motorcycle, "we're getting two new additions to the crew. Ultra Magnus wants you to come meet them."

Prowl didn't so much as twitch under Jazz's gaze but Bumblebee piped up, "Two new guys? What, Ultra Magnus don't think all of us can take care of this?"

Jazz shrugged and still didn't look away. "They were very adamant about joining us here. Said it was exactly what they were looking for."

Prowl was still as motionless as ever, but that was fine as Bumblebee was still talking. "Man, is it really that boring everywhere else in the galaxy? I know Earth is a happening place and all, but sometimes it would be nice if we weren't so busy ourselves."

"They're good fighters." Jazz's grin continued to spread almost off his face. "In fact, I think they'd work pretty well with a couple of you guys."

"That so? So why two? They partners or something?"

"Brothers, actually. Twins."

Prowl's engine stuttered like a cat getting caught as a garage door opened. Everyone spun around to look at him. Jazz's grin nearly ate the entirety of his chin. "No." Prowl muttered, his expression a mess of the most terrified, petrified, and 'Oh-Primus-let-this-not-be-true' looks any of them had ever seen.

"Yes."

Prowl abruptly turned around and it was only Optimus Prime's hand on his shoulder that kept him from doing his ninja disappearing act on them. "Where are you going?"

"Away." Came the terse reply. "_Far_ away."

"Aw, c'mon, Prowl!" Bumblebee teased. "You don't even know these guys! ...Wait- do you?"

A glare of 'why haven't you died yet?' was his only answer.

"It's like you don't want to see any of your old buddies. Especially when they went through such extremes tracking you down!"

That glare swerved over to pin Jazz in accusation.

Jazz spread his hands. "I did a little research."

"I'm not meeting them." Prowl said with finality. "I will not work with them. _Period_."

Optimus Prime frowned down at the black mech. "What's so bad about them that you can't even greet them?" Everyone watched silently as Prowl proceeded to not say a thing. Optimus Prime looked at Ratchet who merely shrugged right back at him. "If you won't tell me," the red and blue mech said, "I can't exactly let you get out of an order from Ultra Magnus. Everyone, transform and roll out." As the other Autobots transformed, Prowl stood still under Optimus Prime's hand and made no move to join the others. "That includes you, Prowl." He pushed the cycle into the center of the procession. "And I mean you're rolling with the rest of us. No attempting to run off."

Prowl gauged the possible success rate of his escaping. While he wasn't the fastest of the Autobots, Bumblebee would be easy enough to escape. Jazz, though, would be a different story. With a sigh and his shoulders dropping, Prowl transformed and sulked on his two wheels.

Despite the leisurely and uneventful drive, it was obvious the black cycle was as tense as an elephant on a tightrope. Jazz played himself some upbeat music- intent in enjoying the sense of impending doom –and as they approached Ultra Magnus's ship, Sari pressed her nose against Bumblebee's windshield, much to his disgust. He opened his passenger side window to let her lean out, peering at two figures that were waiting at the ramp. They were cars, she realized. In fact, they weren't just cars, they were-

"Oh, _wow_!" She cried out, eyes wide. "Are those Lamborghinis? You have some expensive tastes!"

Indeed they were. One a sun-gold yellow, the other a fire red. Both sat intently on their wheels.

"Hey, waitaminute." Ratchet grumbled to himself. "I think I know those two. Aren't they the slaggers- _Prowl_! Watch it ya crazy bolt-brain!"

Prowl didn't even deign to reply, just did his tight little U-turn and nearly slammed into Optimus Prime's grill.

"Oh no you don't!" The truck swerved, turning so his length blocked off Prowl's escape. "You're not going anywhere!"

"Hey, hey! Incoming- and fast!"

True to Bumblebee's word, the two Lamborghinis had shot forward, aiming straight for the distraught motorcycle.

"Bulkhead, Ratchet," Optimus Prime called out, "get in a defensive-"

Jazz cut in smoothly. "'Fraid not, Optimus. In fact, the lot of us will be wanting to sit this one out."

"What do you-"

The yellow car transformed, launching himself forward with a growling roar of "_PRRRROOOOWLL!_"

The smaller Autobot transformed, flipping away from swinging fists and almost right into the second car. He ducked under red arms and rolled away, coming up in a crouch. The first 'bot snarled, the second one grinned and both charged after Prowl again.

"What's going on here?"

"Shouldn't we be doing something?"

"Whadda we do?"

"Calm down, calm down." The white Guard said mildly. "Just let 'em get this outta their system. It'll make sense in a few, trust me."

The other Autobots said nothing, but with the way they all leaned on their axles towards Optimus Prime was telling enough. "…" said the Prime. "If Prowl needs us to step in, he'll let us know." Maybe.

As it was, it was soon apparent the rest of them would've be far outclassed in this fight. The red twin stayed back for the most part, coming in every now and again to keep Prowl from running off to far or to attempt to grab at him, but it was mainly between Prowl and the yellow one and Prowl was barely holding his own. He had yet to reach for his weapons, but he was only half a step ahead of the rampaging Lamborghini, growling and snarling and attacking like laying a hand on Prowl was the only thing that made being on this backwater mudball worth a damn.

A blow to the chest had Prowl staggering back and right into the red one's arms, capturing the motorcycle in a bear hug that pulled him flush against a strong, broad chestplate. The yellow brother came charging in, getting two feet to the midsection for his trouble. The second time, though, he wrapped his hands around Prowl's ankles and moved in between his legs. That snarl on his face twisted into a dark grin, mimicking his brother's as they pressed their captive tight between their bodies.

"Do you know," the red one purred, "how long we've been looking for you?"

"How much we practiced just to get you in this position?"

"How much we _wanted_ to get you in this position?"

The yellow one nearly frowned again. "It's almost disappointing how lax you've gotten."

Prowl didn't move, just kept himself carefully still between them.

"Aw, don't be like that, Prowler. You saying you didn't miss us?"

"Everyone else would be dying for our kind of attention."

"Maybe you just need to remember," one red arm uncurled from that slender black chest and brushed down the gleaming armor, "what it is we can do."

Bulkhead jolted. "Hey wait- are they-"

Bumblebee nearly snapped his window shut on Sari's head as he spun around. "Okay, young lady! That's enough for you!"

"Hey!"

"Sideswipe! Sunstreaker! That's enough!"

Everyone froze, surprised at Ultra Magnus's sudden appearance. The Supreme Commander glared at the two and slowly- very slowly and with an abundance of trailing hands –they released Prowl and took a step back. Prowl was suddenly in the cluster of his own group so fast he could've teleported there. The other Autobots transformed under the pointed look of Ultra Magnus. Sari leapt out of Bumblebee, pulling a face at the small, yellow 'bot.

"You two," Ultra Magnus rumbled, Sentinel and Jazz flanking him, "what did I tell you about causing trouble?"

"Sorry, Commander." The red one said flippantly. "Won't happen again." The yellow merely grunted. Neither of them looked away from Prowl, eyeing him with every intention of getting their hands on him again.

Ultra Magnus wasn't convinced. "I'm sure."

"Geeze," Sari muttered, "what did Prowl do to make them so mad at him?"

An uncomfortable silence fell. The two newcomers smirked hard and hungry. Optimus Prime cleared his vocalizer before saying very slowly, very reluctantly, "They're not… mad at Prowl."

"They're not?"

"It's more they're… um…" uncertain how to phrase a relationship he wasn't even certain the details of, Optimus Prime looked at Prowl who was resolutely not looking at _anyone_.

"Let me guess," Ratchet groused, crossing his thick arms. "You beat the both of 'em in a fight. And they've been obsessed with you ever since."

Prowl's head sunk a little.

"Well what does _that_ mean?" Sari cried.

Jazz, still as amused as he was when he first found out the twins were coming, asked, "Do you know what 'suitor' means?"

"Yeah."

"That's pretty much it. They're Prowl's suitors."

Her eyebrows knotted in confusion. "Oh." Then they jumped nearly to her hairline. "_Oh_. Oh… wow."

Prowl put a hand to his head as he felt two sets of optics roving over every curve of his new form. He wondered when the next time the Decepticons decided to attack. He could certainly use a good death right about now.


	12. As We Conquer the Sky

My, such a response from that last chapter, I'm surprised! Thanks to everyone that's been reviewing!

Death Phoenix: Honestly I wasn't planning on doing a sequel to that last story at all, but it was done for a friend because she helped beta something for me. I have a vague idea for something that could follow up both, but it's sort of doubtful I'd do it with everything else I have in the works. I have no problem if someone wants to work with this idea, myself, though. I'd suggest, though, crediting the original thinker, Sakon. She was the one that kindly let me use the idea.

Flamingmarsh: I tried. I really did. I watched several different episodes from both seasons and the only one I can honestly say I really liked at all was the first one with Wreck-Gar.

This was brought on by a sudden need for more Seeker stuff. Takes place in G1 Season 2 and features (rarely enough) all six Seekers. For some reason or other I was recalling the monsoon season when I was living in Korea which some how turned into hurricane season back when I was living on the East Coast. I don't believe it was ever explicitly stated where the Decepticons ended up crashing and, for the sake of this long drabble I'm going to place them in the Gulf of Mexico.

* * *

Title: As We Conquer the Sky  
Fandom: Transformers G1  
Rating: G  
Characters: all six Seekers  
Summary: Seekers are a notoriously proud group that will be not be held back by anything. No matter how alien, or natural it is.

Even at the ocean's floor the swell of the ocean pressed hard against the _Nemesis_ until the walls rocked and creaked. The Decepticons' violent tempers were notoriously short for having to deal with mechs they couldn't stand on a daily basis and was recently compounded with the fact that they had all been restricted to the underwater vessel for the last few days. The Cybertronians had never before been subjected to such extreme weather conditions as Earth had and this 'hurricane season' was a concept they all preferred to never have experienced. None of them so much as the Seekers.

The first day the rains and wind kept the six of them grounded they had assumed it would pass over as the previous occasional tumultuous days had. By the third, with lightning cracking against the dark clouds, their patience and good humor was failed. Even Skywarp and Thrust had gotten disturbingly quiet. Dirge began watching the weather channel religiously and Starscream locked himself in the lab. The fourth had Seekers prowling over the halls, growling loudly. Their aileron and slats twitched aggressively, the normally smooth and controlled movements of the jets suddenly jerky. Before the end of the week it took three mechs to pull Thundercracker off of a mangled Blitzwing. No more than three hours later, Starscream thrashed his lab. The seventh day, all six Seekers were either watching the humans tracking the course of the storm or listened to updates through the broken, static-laden airwaves that still reached them through the raging tempest.

"Useless meatsacks." Ramjet would mutter at random intervals, usually when he was glaring blankly at a screen. "Can't control their own planet. Can't even figure out where the slag these storms will go."

With one week turning into the next the weather did nothing but grow stronger as the tropical storm intensified into a hurricane and the Seekers grew more restless and violent. They swore they could hear the wind mocking them. It laughed and rattled the seas, sneering at the greatest the Decepticon fliers as if they were cowering from this strange, violent phenomenon. It challenged them. It ridiculed them. It made their wings flex until the sensor panels flashed amber warnings and their cables pinched painfully tight.

As the hurricane nearly passed over the _Nemesis_, Starscream marched into the command center and told Megatron, "We're leaving." It wasn't Starscream's belligerent rumble or conceited sneer. It was cold and dangerous and an absolute truth. Though Megatron was not prone to giving ground to anyone- his willful second least of all –he knew better than to attempt to deny the Seekers at that moment.

"We?" He asked, deceptively nonchalant.

"We. All of us."

Megatron's optics dimmed slightly. "Provided at least one of you manages not to crash into the sea, when is your planned return?"

The curl of Starscream's lips was a snarl and smile. "When we've conquered the sky."

He swept out of the command center and down the halls and his Seekers fell into ranks behind him, each giddy with the idea of being able to fly again. This lifeless limbo had worn them to the edges of sanity. On Starscream's left, Skywarp's hands flex in random pulses, shaking the captivity from his body almost literally. On Starscream's right, Thundercracker was silent and fluid like a soldier heading towards a campaign he knew he already won. On his faceplates was an odd, foreign smirk, as if his long existence meant nothing without chasing the clouds and bellowing louder than the storm. Behind him, Thrust's engine roared one long, low note of destructive anticipation, arms kept locked at his side as if he thought a lapse of control would have him tearing through the halls. By Thrust's wing, Ramjet was nearly as vibrant as Skywarp, fidgeting as he marched and trying to muffle chaotic cackles in his vocalizer. Dirge brought up the rear, arms straining outward as if he were trying to brush his fingers against the walls. As if stretching his arms now could substitute the feel of his wings straining until they reached the hanger.

The large doors whisked aside at their presence and Long Haul stood at the controls, waiting for the order. Following Starscream's lead the Seekers transformed and rolled into position at the back of the runway. They didn't break formation, each at the perfect, measured distance and rumbling oddly patiently through their start-up procedure. Despite the fact the two trines rarely flew together, they needed no communication channels, knew exactly where to be and what to do by the subtle shifts of weight and frequencies of their turbines, born from countless eons of sharing the same alt modes.

The body of the _Nemesis_ thrummed as it rose from the sea, the shaking intensifying as it broke the surface and into the crisscrossing winds. Long Haul hesitated, uncertain if he should be opening the hangar to the violent pounding. Starscream gunned his engine in a particularly violently demanding note and the Constructicon hit the button that would unlock and open the loading bay doors.

A marble-black world opened before them, the sky a cauldron of fury. Slashing rains and fierce winds bellowed inside the hangar, pressure rocking all six Seekers on their landing gears, but none of them faltered, the high whine of their turbines howling back defiantly. As if by one mind, enraptured by the need to fly and be alive again, the diamond formation gunned off the airstrip and over the violent swell of black ocean.

They drove through the tumultuous winds that threatened to sheer off their wings and they cut into the heart of the storm- daring, raging, unwilling to back down even to the unstoppable force of nature no matter how alien. Their engines blared over the shriek of the storm as it tried to break them.

This is our sky, the Seekers warned it. All within it will be conquered!


	13. Prime Rising

I'm sure some of you have seen Andrew Griffith's (known on dA as glovestudio) Thunderous Prime piece. I asked him if I could use the idea in a written piece because it just wouldn't leave me alone and he was gracious enough to allow it. I've considered turning this into a longer series, but I don't have enough ideas for it. Sort of G1 AU.

Jason: I think the Autobots would've had it slightly better just because they're not grounded AND stuck at the bottom of an ocean.

Bluebird: I don't recall seeing all six working together, either. Which is kind of a pity, I'd like to see it more often.

* * *

Title: Prime Rising  
Fandom: Transformers G1  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Thundercracker, Starscream predominantly  
Summary: The Decepticons witnesses the power of the Matrix.

The tide of war had swung heavily in their favor and region after region fell to the Decepticons with almost insulting ease. With Optimus Prime dead and the Matrix in Decepticon hands it was, frankly, a bad century to be an Autobot. Every Decepticon took to their task with sadistic glee and enthusiasm not seen since the beginning of the war. Even Dead End was almost neutrally opinionated on everything.

Thundercracker hated it.

Don't get him wrong. Thundercracker was cheering it up as hard as anyone else when Megatron finally crushed Optimus Prime beneath his heel, tearing open his rival's chest to hold the Matrix in half-ruined hands. And then…

Then Starscream marched up to the barely functioning gray mech, jerked the Matrix from the weak, clattering grip and shot Megatron with his own fusion cannon. The headless, shoulderless body barely even crumpled before he turned to the other Decepticons, Matrix held high and demanded, "Anyone dare challenge my claim to leadership?"

Optics darted all around and they murmured lowly. Thundercracker looked desperately to Shockwave and Soundwave, silently praying one of them would refute the claim. Neither were confident in opposing the unquantifiable power of the Matrix and stayed silent.

Starscream rolled the gleaming artifact in his hands, smirking proudly to himself. Then he turned to the frozen Autobots, still trying to come to grips with the reality that their leader was dead, and said, "Slaughter them."

Scores of Decepticon engines roared in a battle cry. The Autobots, with the fight sucked out of them, either fell beneath blades and feet and gunfire or fled. At the end of the battle Thundercracker was tugged out of a numb haze elbow deep in some random chasis. When the order was given, he followed the rest of the army back to base and sat blankly even as someone- most probably Skywarp –shoved high grade into his hands.

Wing leader and Air Commander though he was, Thundercracker didn't trust Starscream to lead the entire army on his own. He was too self-serving. A brilliant mind that wrapped more around instant gratification then the prolonged well being of anyone that wasn't himself. With Starscream in charge, Thundercracker knew the Decepticons would eventually fall into disarray to say nothing about Cybertron once it fell into his hands.

But no one did anything. The grunts would crawl over the landscape and attack anyone- Autobot, neutral, Decepticon, whoever crossed their paths –and spent their nights getting overcharged. Shockwave retreated to his labs and Thundercracker barely heard anything more from him asides from periodic updates. Soundwave was sent to one of Cybertron's moons with a skeleton crew to take command of the base there. It was a position, everyone knew, to keep him out of the way now that the Autobots were hardly a threat.

Skywarp was certain, with his ambition and skill, he'd be promoted to Air Commander and Thundercracker had to agree with him. He was one of the best fliers and fighters and, while Skywarp wasn't exactly _smart_, he did have a surprisingly resourceful streak and could take orders. Besides, when the other prospects was a cowardly braggart, someone that ran nosecone first into his opponents, a fear-monger attempting to cover up his own weaknesses and someone that was known for being less than enthusiastic of the Decepticon cause it was only obvious that Starscream would promote… Thundercracker.

"What?" He gaped at Starscream who barely even noticed him and was, instead, playing with the Matrix he had chained around his neck. "_Why_?"

"Because I said so. Do not question my orders. You are the new Air Commander and my second and that is all."

Thundercracker didn't know what the hell was going through his processor. He didn't want the position. He barely even saw the point in continuing this Primus-damned war now, had to consciously dredge up the memory on why it was even begun in the first place. Skywarp was furious and actually _refused_ to listen, let alone speak to Thundercracker outside of necessity.

Thundercracker understood the reasoning behind the promotion then. It was to keep the both of them under Starscream's thumb by using their friendship against them. With the threat of Megatron gone, Skywarp was the only one that kept Thundercracker with the Decepticons and with Thundercracker in his way, Skywarp's ambition wouldn't be able to turn into the possibility of overthrowing Starscream.

Without his friend to distract him, Thundercracker could do nothing but plan air raids and wonder why he was still here. Except he'd never be able to just up and leave Skywarp, especially not without making some sort of amends. So Thundercraker stayed and Starscream reaped the benefits of the blue seeker's tactical knowledge.

Starscream sent Thundercracker out on most of the attacks, appearing himself every now and again when the mood struck. Mostly, though, the new Decepticon Commander would just have all the prisoners lined up and he'd pace before them with the Matrix gleaming like some bright bauble against his chest and he'd gloat at them. And then he'd order their execution.

"You're a strutless coward."

That snapped Thundercracker out of his distant thoughts, optics locking on where Starscream froze in mid stride. "What," he growled lowly, swinging about to the line of captives, "did you just say?"

"I said," the broken down mech spat, glaring at the Decepticon leader, "you're a strutless coward."

A hand shot forward, gripping him by the neck and dangling him several feet off the ground. "Do you realize who I am?" The pistons in Starscream's mandible were taut, rolling out the words between his dental plating.

The prisoner rasped. "Yeah. You're the weak bastard that can't even control your own army. You only come out after we've been beaten and detained. How very becoming of you, oh great and powerful Decepticon leader."

"You're playing at a dangerous game, trash."

"What are you going to do? Kill me? I wasn't expecting _that_ to happen! If only Megatron were as creative as you!"

Starscream's hand clamped on the Autobot's arm and with a roar he ripped it from the socket. In his grip the Autobot screamed and kicked wildly. Thundercracker winced, turning away as his leader dropped the prisoner and smashed him across the face with his own arm.

"_Who_ is weak, you pathetic scrap heap?" Starscream shouted at him, smashing down again and again with the arm. "_I_ rule this planet and everyone on it! You aren't even worth the dirt you're covered in!" The arm fell apart in Starscream's hands and he resorted to kicking in the mech's chest. "_Megatron_," he spat like it was some vile fluid trickling across his lips, "had no vision! He would've been happy to fight until the universe collapsed! He didn't care about resolution!"

"A-At least h-heee… fought his ow-own b-b-battles…"

Starscream's optics flared nearly white. "Enjoy the screams of your comrades, Autobot," he growled dangerously low, "may the sound keep you company in the Pit." He raised Megatron's fusion cannon to the line of other Autobot prisoners-

Thundercracker slapped it back down. Starscream spun on him. "What are you doing?" He hissed.

"That's enough, Starscream."

"_Enough_?"

"He's a decrepit piece of junk. The only use any of them are would be to find other pockets of resistance." Under his cockpit Thundercracker could feel his spark pounding. He couldn't believe he was attempting to stand wing to wing against Starscream but he couldn't back down now. "We can't get that information if they're dead."

A harsh shove nearly sent him sprawling into a wall. "How _dare_ you attempt to order me! I will not let any insult go- not from this trash _or_ you!"

"Starscream," Thundercracker tried again, his frustration burning on a dangerous level, "don't be stupid-" a blast next to his right forward intake showered him with dirt.

"That is your only warning, Thundercracker. Do not push the limits of my mercy."

Something inside him snapped and Thundercracker suddenly found himself grappling against the other jet. "I'm so fragging tired of you!" He ripped the fusion cannon from Starscream's arm and it skidded across the ground to some Decepticon's feet. "I'm through with your slagging attitude and your stupid delusions and every damned thing about you!"

In the air Starscream was unmatched. But here, on the ground, he was the exact same model of jet that Thundercracker was. He had the same strengths, the same weaknesses and though Thundercracker was programmed to fight in all ranges of combat, Starscream preferred attacking from afar. Starscream's turbines whined but Thundercracker anchored him down, wrenching at a vainly gleaming wing until the metal buckled and Starscream shrieked in pain. He plowed into his second, smashing him against a wall and nearly into the captive Autobots that scrambled out of the way on their knees. Armor crumpled under fists, glass cracked on cockpits and they raged against each other.

Too close to resort to null rays, Starscream flicked a hand, energon blade suddenly in his fist and then deep in Thundercracker's side. The sharp burn seized up internal functions and Thundercracker instinctively _roared_, harmonics building in a heavy crescendo that made the wall at his back crumble and Starscream falter. Somewhere underneath the scream of pain and noise he thought he heard Skywarp shouting something. His hands scrabbled for purchase on Starscream's body, hooking blinding to something and he jerked the other jet in. Thundercracker lifted a leg and his turbine howled violently as he lashed out. The heat and kick shattered the glass of Starscream's cockpit and something broke off in Thundercracker's hands.

Then the whole world was washed in crisp and blue.

Heat and calm and clarity came over Thundercracker. Suddenly he was just so _aware_. He felt the ages of the universe, its entirety, its energy and matter. He could feel, despite the age of their race and their neigh immortality, Cybertronians were just a brief, meaningless flicker in the existence of everything. The presence of multiple ghosts, the dead and the ancient, filled his processors. A few of those were mere echoes of mechs long passed, and others nearly overpowered Thundercracker's own sense of self. Beyond them all, sublime and patient and divine, he could sense the world. He felt the wisdom of Primus, the pain it felt- that Thundercracker and Starscream and all of them caused it.

In his hands the Matrix pulsed in time to his spark and Thundercrack felt his body shifting. Not the mechanical shift of his transformation sequence. No, this was growth. His armor slide outward and expanded, struts split and his engines twisted in on themselves, became more complex, more powerful. The world shifted in Thundercracker's view, he felt his body rise several meters, his diamond shaped wings collapsed on the leading edge, the panels flowing out to a harsh, sharp angle. He felt no pain or fear, just an amazing sense of _right_ as his chest morphed. The internals shivered until a casing melted together just above his spark casing, just large enough for the Matrix to fit snuggly within and the newly angular cockpit slid shut over it.

_Rise_, the multitude in his processors rumbled and at the fore was a voice he'd known from countless battles, a voice that could never be mistaken for any others, the voice of Optimus Prime, _Thunderous Prime_.

The light died down and Thundercracker… Thunderous Prime looked at those new, foreign hands- _his_ hands –and turned them over, watching the midnight blue gloss shimmer for him. Autobots and Decepticons alike gaped, unable to process what they'd just witness. All but Starscream, sprawled on his aft, expression wild with rage. He was fairly vibrating as realization slowly crept on him, wingtips quivering rapidly.

"You… _traitor_!" Starscream's turbines shrieked, blaring like a nova as he threw himself at his former wingmate, hands curled as if he were going to claw the Matrix out of Thunderous Prime's chest.

A hand caught him around the neck and jaw and Thunderous was surprised at how small Starscream suddenly was. He slammed the red seeker into the wall- _through_ the wall –and his harmonics growled like a storm growing in the distance. "_I_ am the traitor? You, the one who routinely attempted to overthrow Megatron, who killed your own leader? You call _me_ the traitor?"

Starscream roared, peds dangling over the rubble and fired his null ray point blank at the thick arm that captured him. Reflexively Thunderous Prime jerked back, then couldn't help but watch himself flex his arm. Before, as a standard jet, that shot would've rendered his arm inoperative. Now he just felt a sharp sting as the shot dissipated over the first two layers of armor, making the sensors flare briefly. He looked up as Starscream scrambled back, coiled as if he'd attack again but his intellect warred against the idea.

"Decepticons," he hissed high and thin in his vocalizer, "retreat!"

He stood back and watched Starscream stream into the air, the rest of his troops filling in his wake. Thunderous Prime's optics dropped from the sky to see Skywarp standing alone. On his faceplates, twisted and numb and utterly lost, was hurt and betrayal- his last wingmate, his only true friend, had dropped him behind again. Only this time there would be no middle for them to meet.

"Skywarp-" his voice was drowned up by the black Seeker's turbines, following the rest of the Decepticons out. Thunderous Prime could only watch the hot burn of his engines disappear. He had never felt so utterly alone before that moment.

A shifting drew his attention and slowly, dark fingers drumming a nervous staccato against his thighs, Thunderous Prime turned to the bound Autobots who stared back at him just as uncertainly. "So, uh… now what?"


	14. The 50 Dollar Question

So in my other series 'What's Wrong with a Little Destruction' the Wreckers were called to Earth in order to counter the threat of Sixshot. Whirl is a bit of a purveyor of random knowledge and he'd probably find a surprising enjoyment from Earth's trivia shows. This was too stupid to put up with the rest of the drabbles and yet too stupid to not actually do.

Btw, does anyone else notice how any time anyone is called on these kinds of shows, they always pick up? And if you're familiar with Cash Cab... yeah.

And all who commented on that last drabble, I haven't completely given up hope on expanding it, I'm just having trouble coming up with more than a couple minor ideas. So if there's anyone willing to help, drop me a line somewhere.

* * *

Title: The 50 Question  
Fandom: Transformers IDW  
Rating: G  
Characters: Jimmy, Verity, Whirl  
Summary: Some promises weren't made to be made.

"So? What's it going to be."

Verity laid a supportive hand on Jimmy's arm. And dug her nails in. "I swear to God, Jimmy, if we have to walk the entire way, I will beat you."

He winced, eyes flickering over to the driver. "I'm gonna call."

"Call? Who the hell are you going to-" her eyes went wide. "You're not."

"Who else is there?"

Verity sheathed her claws to hang her head into her hands. "He'll be pissed."

"Yeah, well, he said he would." Jimmy held a hand up to the phone the driver was offering. "I'll use mine, thanks. Private line and all."

He got a dubious look, but the driver turned back to the road. "Suit yourself."

Oh yeah. Jimmy was going to get blasted for this. He took his phone (or phone-like object, rather, one of the few things Wheeljack made that didn't blow up at any stage of development) and scrolled for the comm frequency he needed.

There were two beeps, then the other end picked up to the sound of roaring and very, very faint explosions. The voice on the other end snapped just loud enough for Verity and the driver to hear, "_You better be dead somewhere- what?_"

Jimmy gave a big, plastic smile to the driver's questioning look in the rearview mirror. "Hey, Whirl. I need to ask you a question."

"_It can wait._"

"It really can't."

"_Boy, this is not a good time._"

"You're the one that agreed if I ever got on a game show I could call you up!"

There was a beat and the two teens winced at the sound of someone shouting unintelligibly in the background. "_You- This- You're calling me for _that_?_"

"You said-"

"_I know what I said! Primus- make it quick! What's the question?_"

"What is the imaginary line in which all the planets in the solar system travel through and holds all twelve zodiacs?"

There was a long pause filled with questionable noises.

"Whirl?"

"_That's it._" Came the flat reply. "_You called me up for _that_. This is a 50 question, isn't it? You couldn't have called me for something _hard_._"

"If you know it could you tell me kinda quickly?"

"_Of course I know it! It's basic knowledge! It's called the ecliptic!_"

Jimmy gave the driver a pleading look. "The ecliptic."

The driver, taking pity on the boy's apparently unhappy friend, said, "That is correct!"

"Thanks, Whirl."

"_Don't call me again._"

The driver paused to ask, "Was he in the middle of a battlefield or something?"

"Tech support." Verity said quickly.

"Tech support?"

"It's like a battlefield." She gave Jimmy a sympathetic look. "Once he realizes this is going to be broadcasted on cable tv, do you realize how much he's going to hurt you?"

"Yeah- I'm hoping we'll make enough money from this to hide out for about a week or more."

"Good call."


	15. Restricted Access

Takes place some time after chapter 11: Can't Run Now. Done for my wonderful beta reader (whenever i get off my ass to plead at her to look something over for me), Wills.

Narcoleptic: Aw, you don't have to worry about reviewing every chapter you read! I mean, I'm not going to hold you responsible for it- especially since I have a pretty bad track record of reviewing everything that I like, myself! I'm just glad to know people like what I've been putting out.

* * *

Title: Restricted Access  
Fandom: Transformers: Animated  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Prowl, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Starscream, ensemble  
Summary: The cavalry is possessive.

When Megatron told his Decepticons to get that human child's key, what Megatron really meant was for a Decepticon _other than_ Starscream getting it. Which just meant Starscream wanted it that much more. He hung back, crouched low on one of Detroit's skyscrapers as Decepticons and Autobots alike swarmed against each other far below. Let those fools struggle, he thought with a smirk. All Starscream needed was an opening. He'd swoop down, carry off the key (and girl if he really had to) and by the time Megatron and those pathetic Autobots realized what had happened… Starscream's thoughts trickled off with a dark, internal cackle, clawed hands rubbing together.

Oh, yes. This was going to be _great_. All he need was- OPENING!

The sounds of battle and yelling masked Starscream's roaring engine just enough that by the time Sari realized he saw her peering out of the safety of a building, his hand had engulfed the key and nearly took the girl's head off as he barreled towards the skyline in an almost-flawless escape.

"Prowl!"

"You- get off, parasite!"

The black motorcycle grunted as Starscream pounded a hand against his helmet, but Prowl clung stubbornly onto the jet's arm. His legs scrabbled for some kind of purchase or just to not be dangling around whatever building Starscream tried to slam him into.

"That bird-brained slag- _get outta my way_!" Sunstreaker roared, physically _picking up_ Lugnut and tossing him into a building. His twin was already running toward him at full speed.

"Sunstreaker- heads up!"

The yellow warrior cupped his hands and as Sideswipe jumped on to him, Sunstreaker _heaved_ his brother into the air. Sideswipe's jetpack flared to life as the other twin spun around, firing two missiles the streaked around his brother and straight towards Starscream.

"Wha-" Prowl twisted in the distracted jet's hands, bringing up both feet into Starscream's face and pushing himself and the key free of the Decepticon's grasp and into the air. Sparing the plummeting motorcycle a snarl and curse, Starscream flipped onto his back, raised his null rays and blasted the missiles.

A bullet of red and black vengeance exploded out of the smoke and latched on to the winged mech, pinning him with a death grip and optics like blue-fired rage. Starscream's optics went wide as he realized that this Autobot wasn't going to punch him because he didn't have fists- he had _pile drivers_. "Hands off our bike." Sideswipe growled. Both pile drivers slammed the jet in the face.

Megatron growled as he saw his so-called second in command drop out of the sky. "Decepticons!" He called out. "Fall back!" He was going to rip the tailfins off that idiot...

"Ah, slag me!" Ratchet muttered, trying to get a clear shot of Prowl. He activated his magnets and prayed he had the range and time to keep the small bot from going splat all over the ground. The distance, speed and weight was too much for Ratchet to stop, but he managed to slow Prowl enough for Sunstreaker to brace himself and catch Prowl in his arms, the impact forcing the warrior to one knee.

The little black ball in Sunstreaker's arms twitched, then slowly unfolded as Prowl looked around, surprised to find himself in one piece, key held tightly to his chest. He gaped at the relieved expression on Sunstreaker's faceplates.

"Prowl!" Sideswipe's jetpack roared under his call. He cut it off a few meters above ground and dropped into a jog. "Are you okay?" The open concern in his expression left Prowl just as equally flabbergasted and he stayed frozen, cradled against Sunstreaker's body, unable to figure out what he was supposed to do now.

"I think," Jazz said, sotto voce, just beyond the trio, "this is where you tell them 'thank you'."

Startled at the advice- and simplicity thereof –Prowl looked at the twins and almost managed not to stammer, "Thank you."

They looked down at him in surprise for a moment. Then the familiar, sly gleam was back in their optics. "What, that's it?" Sideswipe grinned. "You're not going to prove your gratitude?"

Prowl could feel Sunstreaker's rumble going throughout his body, the key flashing briefly between his fingers. "I can think of how you can do it, too." His hand traced the slick line from Prowl's side to his thigh-

Sari suddenly found the black mech kneeling in front of her and holding out the key. "Here," he said quickly, "be more careful in the future."

Cautiously she took the still-flashing object, holding it at arm's length like it was a used tissue. "Um… thanks." Before anyone else could move, Prowl was already at Optimus Prime's side talking about how they should be helping the humans repair the damage caused by the battle.

"Ya know what, Sunny?" Sideswipe began as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I think I like this Prowl better than the stoic one we chased around."

Sunstreaker gave a feral grin as his optics followed all of Prowl's movements. "I was thinking the same thing…"


	16. Perfection

The Golden Ratio hasn't been new to me for a couple years now, but as we went over it in one of my classes recently, it was definitely the first time it was talked about that 'nerdy robot sex' popped into my head. I'd apologize, but I'm mainly thanking everyone for humoring me in my stupidity.

Silveriss: Haha, good luck with that. I actually have that fear whenever I go somewhere without internet connection. I think that's a sure sign I addicted to the web...

Xobit: ...lions chasing a cheetah. That's a very apt description XD

To all: I very much appreciate the reviews! I don't know if I'll continue that mini-arc just because, as I've said in the first chapter, I'm not actually a fan of the show. But, who knows? If the inspiration comes, I'm not about to ignore it.

* * *

Title: Perfection  
Fandom: Transformers G1  
Rating: PG for implications  
Characters: Hook, Scrapper  
Summary: Some people's idea of talking dirty is a little (lot) different than others'.

Hook groused to himself as he made his way across the Constructicons' bay towards the small room in the back that Scrapper had converted into his workroom. He groused about bored Decepticons that couldn't keep themselves undamaged, about the lack of proper tools to work with, about snooty Starscream relaying Megatron's want to know the progress of his new superweapon as if he were too important for the task. Mostly, though, Hook groused on about that Primus-damned shovel not answering his comm, forcing Hook to march down there to extract the report himself.

He jabbed a finger against the control panel with the kind of intent he wanted to put his fist to Scrapper's facemask. The alerting chime didn't sound any louder and Hook made a mental note to figure out a way to change that in the future. He needed some way to communicate his ire with his immediate superior and pounding on the door with such precision hands was far beneath Hook's level.

The distracted 'enter' filtered in the door's range, activating the voice command and the panel slide back in a hydraulic hiss. Leaning over his holoimaging table was Scrapper, peering at a building construct from one angle before raising a hand to spin it around on its z-axis. He referred to one of his datapads before slowly walking around the glowing image hanging before him.

Hook was never a patient mech outside of his work and he knew Scrapper would be perfectly content to ignore the rest of the world as he designed. "Megatron wants an update." He said sharply.

"Hm?" Came the vague reply. Though Scrapper tilted his head in Hook's direction, he didn't seem to be paying any actual attention. For Hook- who's very attitude demanded attention for the hard work he (was forced to do) did –this was unacceptable.

He stomped towards the table, pressed his hands against the edge of it and leaned forward until he was nearly inside the image of the building. "Megatron." He hissed as Scrapper's optics finally settled on him. "Wants an update."

"Oh, yes." The other Constructicon waved a hand absently to a side table. "That's been complete. If you want to recheck my figures, by all means." That said, he ignored Hook's presence once more, hand dancing over the holoimage and studying the interior.

Though irritated at being waved off so readily, Hook went to the table in question and found the datapad on the third try. The figures, as to be expected, were accurate and construction both sound and plausible. It seemed to Hook that Scrapper was the only other mech that cared to get things done right rather than how everyone else did. Slapdash, careless, unplanned or just plain unintelligently. It was the only reason Hook accepted Scrapper as the leader of the Constructicons.

Sometimes, though- such as now, when Hook had to play messenger –he had to wonder about the wisdom of that. "What are you working on?"

Scrapper's optic band brightened at the question. He motioned for Hook to join him at the table and the crane could practically feel the excited smile under the facemask. "Come here! Take a look!" He zoomed the image back to its full view and set it to rotate slowly. "This is going to be my greatest work!"

"Is it, now?" Hook asked dubiously. Though Scrapper had no where near Hook's ego, he always threw himself into his designs in an attempt to outdo his last greatest work.

"This is beyond any simple feat of engineering I've done for Megatron." Scrapper said, moving counter to the image's spin. "This will be the single greatest piece of architecture in the universe, my Golden Palace. This will be," he breathed, "_perfection_."

When Hook said nothing, the shovel waved to the panel. "Go on! Look at the data!" As he did so, Scrapper continued with his voice hushed and excited. "Through out all the places we've gone in this galaxy- all that we've seen and studied only one thing has ever been consistent- the Golden Ratio!"

As the crane studied the numbers, listening to Scrapper babble in flush pride, Hook couldn't help but be impressed. "From the arrangement of branches to the proportions of organics, to even our own constructions to the structure of the very galaxy itself- they all keep this ratio base. Using this universal ratio, I'll design a building of such simplicity and complexity, it will put all my previous works to shame!"

Hook couldn't help picturing the beauty of this building as Scrapper spoke, the numbers and notes jotted down created such a vivid construction in his head that Hook felt his engine stutter for a moment. His processors begged to read and reread the data, coiling over the seamless joins of triangles and rectangles, ghosting his sensors over spirals that soared in his imagination. He felt the clean, studiousness of the sacred geometry resonating in his spark. Hook saw the shapes join and mesh and still kept that prevalent ratio. He hungered through the plans, Scrapper's quiet genius sliding over his senses and lighting little flashes in Hook's cranial unit. The shovel's straightforward script flowed like high-grade over senors, Hook could feel that modest, ambitious intelligence winding through the data and it struck him to the core.

"Imagine it, Hook," Scrapper purred into his audio receptor. Hook didn't even know when Scrapper had come around to him, hands running electric circuits against his arms, nuzzling the fold of Hook's boom. "A building created purely out of the secret ratio of the universe, a building of unsurpassed beauty, of mathematical perfection. Do you want to be a part of this?" He didn't know when Scrapper had pulled back his facemask, but Hook could feel the words whispering against his armor. "A testament to the universe's innermost workings and you could be forever remembered as one of the greatest talents for helping create the most perfect structure to ever exist…"

Hook twisted in Scrapper's arms, pulling the shovel so hard against him he was nearly bent backwards over the table. Scrapper had enough sense to save and close his work before his hands did their so-clever dance over Hook's side.

Frag Megatron, Hook decided. He can wait.


	17. Statistical Anomaly

Sorry for the delay, I'm afraid I've been (and those of you that follow my writing lj know what i mean...) slightly distracted the past few days.

Robin: I've seen very little 'Structie-oriented stuff around and even less focused on any of them in particular. But a couple I really like are Koi's Five Hangovers and a Trumpet, Rebecca's pre-series Better to Light a Candle and Bittereloquence's A Different Kind of Mercy. The first is more teammate pain-fun-time, the last two Hook-Scrapper centric.

Dairokkan: As I was actually telling someone else, I have sort-of ideas for continuing Prime Rising it's just... I basically have a point A and a point C, but no point B or an idea on how to get there. I'm open to suggestions if anyone has them.

Wills: Your review got cut off somehow D:

To everyone: Thank you for your continued reading and reviewing!

* * *

Title: Statistical Anomaly  
Fandom: Transformers G1  
Rating: PG for Ratchet Rant  
Characters: Ratchet, Wheeljack, Perceptor  
Summary: Wheeljack isn't the only one that experiments.

Before the last vestiges of the explosion echoed out of Ark's halls, Ratchet was already stomping down them and swearing under his breath.

"That idiotic, half-clocked, thick-headed moron!" He seethed, body thrumming with tightly leashed ire. "Can't learn a slagging thing, can he? Noooo!" Ratchet's dental plating squealed together as he worked himself into a murderous frenzy. "Not enough that he blows himself up- he has to do it _once a slagging WEEK_! He can't just leave well enough alone! Always tinkering, always fixing, always getting his hazardous little hands all over _everything_! He's a walking danger zone is what he is! Everything he touches should be labeled hazmat! For all that stupid intelligence he just can't figure out that everything he does explodes all over the damn place! And who's the one stuck fixing him every slagging time? _Me_! Doesn't matter if I just got off shift or if I _finally_ get a day-off! Every time- without fail –always another explosion! Primus _dammit_, Wheeljack! When I get my hands on you, I'm gonna dismantle your arms and turn your head into a ceiling light!"

"What'd _I_ do?"

Ratchet whirled around to find an indignant Wheeljack behind him, container of energon in hand.

"What- you- but," seeing Ratchet splutter mollified the engineer slightly, "where did you come from?"

"I was in the common room and I heard an explosion from the labs. I was coming to check it out." He gave Ratchet a sarcastic look that said, 'thanks for giving me the benefit of the doubt there, buddy'.

The CMO- not accustomed to apologizing –turned back to look down the hall where a cloud of fine, blue mist was now wafting around their ankles. "Then who the hell did this?"

The grating sound of overworked fans trying to clear out grit grabbed their attention and out of the lab stumbled a similarly coated Perceptor.

"Oh my," he stuttered slightly, obviously not as used to concussive blasts as Wheeljack from the way his legs threatened to give out, "my equations did not predict such a volatile reaction…"

"_Perceptor_?"

"Oh, good- Ratchet!" The scientist swayed on his feet. "I am indeed relieved that you have come! I do believe my equilibrium is off-kilter and my gyroscope does not seem to be functioning correctly." That said, Perceptor then collapsed in a heap.

Ratchet slapped a hand to his helmet and grumbled about how he could never get a moment's peace around here. Wheeljack, meanwhile, had knelt to check on the smaller mech.

"Oh wow! There's these little crystallized minerals forming on-"

"Wheeljack- just… no!"


	18. Paradigm Shift

So Azure and I have come to the conclusion that Scrapper's reputation for using Autobots in his building designs were just as much other Decepticons misinterpreting his actions as it is his practicality and disinclination of wasting perfectly good materials.

JML: I'm sure if Jetfire got into the asplodey habit, Ratchet would quit for his mental safety.

Robin: Hm, hadn't read that one yet. I'll give it a go. And speaking of Contrusticons...

* * *

Title: Paradigm Shift  
Fandom: Transformers  
Rating: PG? What does detached mentions of mutilation fall under?  
Characters: Scrapper, cameo by Long Haul  
Summary: His reputation had to start somewhere.

Ensuring the rank-and-file properly cleared the area was barely a second thought in Scrapper's processors. Instead he was focused on the gutted shell of the Autobot outpost that had just been taken over. It was a good location and the fortifications weren't too bad (that is, the good fortifications were the only parts left standing) but really. Did they actually expect to hold off the Decepticon advancement with such a glaringly flawed and uninspired design?

Scrapper's cranial unit fairly buzzed as plans and equations and materials coalesced, transforming the pale imitation of a base into an impenetrable stronghold. His hands itched and before he was even consciously aware of it, Scrapper had pulled out his drafting pen and tablet to jot down notes in order to reconstruct that sorry husk. Though Scrapper was in little danger of forgetting any angles or measurements, there was just something wonderfully satisfying about seeing the lines fill out in front of-

"What…?" Scrapper peered at his dark tablet that refused to boot up. He pressed harder at the button, then turned it over in his hands, peering for any imperfections in the casing. When none was found he pried open the tablet to see if there was a disconnected wiring. Six circuit boards had somehow melted. "For the love of- how did this happen?"

He could guess it had to do with why Scavenger had been rather skittish around him lately and Mixmaster attempting to keep himself scarce ever since his lab last exploded. He'd have to speak to them about 'borrowing misplaced objects'. Again.

He cursed inwardly, unable to get another tablet until the convoy caught up. Scrapper caught sight of Long Haul directing a small squad of grunts moving bodies to be stripped for materials and supplies.

"Hey!" He called out, moving towards them. Scrapper pointed at two grunts struggling under a mech that probably used to be a tank. "Drop that body!" Though they didn't know what was going on, they knew an officer when they saw one and complied. They watched as Scrapper moved over the body of the Autobot detachment's former ranking officer.

Hrmm… the chest and back plates were riddled with holes and warped from explosions, the legs mostly made up of treads, too many sharp angles on the arms and the head was almost inside out… ah-ha! With a little bit of effort Scrapper turned the mech on his front and began to pry off the outer armor and secondary plating, pulling out all the internal components until he came across the slide plating that shifted the tank's large engine around during transformation. He tore that out, then paused and dug around until he found a needle-tipped object at the base of the fuel injector.

A couple harsh tugs freed it from its lubricant cable and Scrapper inspected it with satisfaction. No sense dulling his own tools. "Carry on." He said and walked off as he started to etch blueprints on the plating he'd just pulled from the body. The clean-up crew stared, flabbergasted.

"I can't believe I just saw that."

"That was _cold_!"

"Did that seriously just happen?"

They looked at Long Haul as if he could make it more believable. He just shrugged back. "He does that sometimes," and directed them back to work.

They did so with little argument and decided, with a captain like that, it'd probably be in their best interest to stop bad-mouthing Constructicons.


	19. Liberated by the Foe

So I don't know how many people realize this, but while Megatron was sending energon back to Cybertron, Optimus Prime wasn't. And between season 2 and the animated movie, the Autobots were kicked off the planet. Coincidence? You decide.

* * *

Title: Liberated by the Foe  
Fandom: Transformers G1  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Razorclaw, Ultra Magnus  
Summary: Optimus Prime didn't seem to realize the key to winning Cybertron was on Earth.

Razorclaw sat before Ultra Magnus with barely a look of concern even as the large commander pinned him with a flat glare. "Have you even considered," Ultra Magnus rumbled with barely contained rage, "what you're doing?"

"Of course I have." The gestalt leader replied smoothly. "That's why it's being done."

"Do you really think I'll just let you and your team walk away like this?"

He sneered. "Do you really want to try to stop us?"

Ultra Magnus did not fear Razorclaw. He surpassed the gold and black mech in size, mass and strength, there was as good as chance he'd win in a one-on-one fight as Razorclaw would have. But it wouldn't be the correct way to handle this. Even if he managed to wrestle the predator down, it wouldn't solve anything.

"This is a mistake, Razorclaw."

Optic band flashing coldly he asked, "Is it? Funny, I kinda think this is a long time in coming."

"Do you honestly believe joining the Decepticons will solve your problems?"

"As a matter of fact I do. Morality is only useful if you're alive to keep it. I plan on surviving. I plan on my team to survive and I will keep us alive the best way possible. Right now, if we stay here, if we keep fighting for the Autobots, we're as good as dead."

"Joining them won't make your situation any better."

"I doubt that. Arrangements have already been made. We _are_ leaving."

A hand slammed on the desk that resounded through the thick doors and out into the hall. Razorclaw sat stoically, unimpressed. "And you'll just sell your morals just like that?" Ultra Magnus snapped. "Everything we've worked so long to achieve and you're just going to throw it all away for some superficial comforts?"

Razorclaw's optic band narrowed dangerously at the accusation. "Superficial comforts? Is that what you really believe? Fine, then. Make me an offer, Ultra Magnus." Razorclaw snarled, leaning over the large desk, hands like claws as each confrontational word was bit out of his vocalizer. "Make an offer that will change my mind. Make an offer that matches what Shockwave is willing to give me. Guarantee that my team will have all the energon they need. Guarantee that we will have proper maintenance, that our systems won't starve and freeze. Guarantee that we won't lack anything that we need."

With the harsh truth staring at him in the face, too honest to ever lie to one of his own, Ultra Magnus looked away, mouth pressed into a thin line.

His answer received, Razorclaw stood back, optics colored with distaste. "You can't, can you. Shockwave can. Because Megatron is sending his forces shipments of energon. What has Optimus Prime been doing for us? Where are our supplies, the ones Prime left to find _four million years ago_? He's so busy trying to protect that primitive backwater planet he's left his own army to die as our systems slowly dry out. We get more energon stealing from Shockwave's cache's than we do from Prime himself. Why should I sacrifice my team to fight for a cause when our leader doesn't even care enough to ensure we have the energy to continue functioning?

"The Predabots are through with this army. I know you're aware we're far from the first 'bots to defect and I know you know we won't be the last. Not if things keep on the course they are." Razorclaw eyed Ultra Magnus slowly before deciding to leave with, "If you were smart, you'd do the same. Dying because of your own failure doesn't make you a martyr, it just makes you a sad tragedy."

On quiet feet, Razorclaw left Ultra Magnus for the last time. The commander laced his hands together and held them before his face. He wondered how much more they'd have to lose before Optimus Prime came to their aid.


	20. And this is Just the Beginning

So I was in need of something to write. I wanted something happy, something fun, something with banter and something that was a break from the Wreckers. Azure prompted me and, even if her idea wasn't exactly light and amusing, it was certainly fun (on my part). btw, the title is ironic, because this is just a one shot.

* * *

Title: And this is Just the Beginning…  
Fandom: Transformers G1  
Rating: PG-13 for some UST  
Characters: Prowl, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker and a bit of Hound at the end.  
Summary: As a young officer, Prowl still had a lot to learn about dealing with troublemakers.

The murmuring of others traveling through the halls around him flowed over the barest surface of Prowl's consciousness. He was aware of them, gave the world just enough attention he knew who and what was around him, and focused his attention on the reports he carried. They were simple things, check-ins from security, a cautionary warning on a patrol route, portions of the base in need of repairs, just enough to warrant his attention but easy to deal with as he went from one meeting to the next.

"Hey, you!"

A doorwing flickered errantly as he read over an energon dispenser needing to be repaired yet again. He made a mental note to simply have it replaced as soon as they were able to. It seemed the most logical of actions.

"Hey!"

As he turned the corner, Prowl easily sidestepped a harried mech carrying an arm full of supplies. The mech muttered a breathless apology while Prowl didn't even hitch in his stride. Belatedly he heard a crash and knew the mech had run into someone. He hoped everyone involved learned their lesson about watching where they were going (as well as not carrying so much at once).

"Slaggin, Pit-rejected piece of-"

"Prowl! Wait up!"

At the sound of his name, the tactician stopped and turned. Automatically a long list of profiles scrolled through his memory, two files coming up at an instant as a red frontliner came ambling up with a careless smirk, a yellow one close behind, still snarling at the clumsy mech trying to regather his dropped supplies.

Prowl regarded them and their unlucky third-party with a disapproving crease to his lips but he addressed them amicably enough. "Sideswipe. Sunstreaker. Are you in need of anything?"

"We want to talk to you." Sideswipe said simply. The sharp line of his smirk echoed the dark snarl of his brother and the intensity in both their optics. Superficially different but entirely the same underneath.

Sensing this 'talk' wasn't to be held in a public venue, Prowl turned again. "Very well, follow me." He shuffled around his schedule in his processor, thankful for the foresight in keeping free a measure of time in case a delay such as this ever happened.

He led the two of them into a conference room that wasn't set to be used for another few cycles. Prowl certainly hoped this discussion wouldn't take too long. Time set aside or not, it wasn't nearly that much he had to spare. Given the two soldiers a distant, even look he asked, "What do you require of me?"

It didn't even take conscious thought to hold back the flicker of surprise as Sunstreaker strode up to him and Sideswipe wandered off a little as if he'd never been in the room before (which was likely, given his lack of rank). However, it took a bit of an effort to stop from stepping back or letting his optics widen minutely as Sunstreaker moved until he was just barely not-touching Prowl at the same moment Sideswipe was almost pressed up in the space between his doorwings. If Prowl rocked his weight forward or backward, he'd brush up against either of the brothers and so held himself carefully, perfectly still.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sunstreaker hissed in a low, aggressive rumble. It rattled the air between him and his brother and reverberated all along Prowl's body. He had to clamp down on the urge to shudder. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

The tactician didn't shrink at the harsh glower, didn't twitch a cable, didn't even tilt his head asides from looking Sunstreaker in the optics. "Explain what you mean."

"That punishment you gave us." Air flowed over Prowl's audio receptor and he hid a jolt through long years of discipline only. Sideswipe's lips didn't touch the side of his helmet, but Prowl could feel them moving all the same. His tone didn't hold the same underlying aggression Sunstreaker's did, but it was just as deadly and just as promising. "What were you thinking when you assigned it?"

"It is a fair and just punishment. I fail to see what has upset you."

Sunstreaker's face was twisted in a snarl and somehow no less beautiful; like a dark, violent Pit-demon trying to lord over the smaller mech. "You're not our superior officer."

"No." He amended. "But punishment had to be dolled out." Prowl dipped his head slightly, just enough to look at Sunstreaker from under his chevron and, though he didn't turn towards the other twin, addressed Sideswipe just as equally. "Your superior has a tendency of overreacting to your actions. I was merely taking the issue off of his hands."

"So that's it, huh?" At Sideswipe's voice echoing around in his head, Prowl reflexively flickered a doorwing. It brushed against the fighter's arm and instinctively froze. "Were you just trying to get our attention?"

"Well you have it." Some how the miniscule space between he and Sunstreaker diminished and the two were still not touching. The expression was challenging, daring Prowl to back down. "Now what are you going to do?"

He stood quietly between the two, refusing to let them see the slight trembling within. Had he really been so naïve to think, after Jazz and Springer, he was prepared to deal with anything? These two were everything his fellow officers were not: unstable, dangerous, predatory. They wore their confidence like a naked blade on their side. Always on display and ready to be unleashed and draw blood the moment they saw a weakness. Prowl would not be intimidated by them. He wouldn't allow himself to be.

"Go about my day as I had planned." He said flatly, clamping down on the vague hint of a tremor in his vocalizer. He couldn't understand what angle, exactly, they were working towards. Part of Prowl tensed, waiting for either of the two to attack him. Part of him clenched and flexed inside, sensors incredibly heightened, too aware of their proximity, of their dark seductiveness, of their watching him as if he were the only thing in the universe worth their attention. Prowl berated himself for underestimating them, taking all his will to keep from falling against them to let them do what they wished.

Sunstreaker leaned in, tilting his head just so to keep from brushing against the flat red chevron or smooth curve of his audio receptor. Prowl couldn't help but flick his optics to watch him, found his gaze frozen right on his periphery. Both twins' lips curved the same dark, promising smile, hungry and knowing exactly what it was Prowl was watching. Too close. Far too close, but Prowl would not let himself be the first one to step back.

The words were in Sunstreaker's voice, but Prowl suddenly had trouble distinguishing one set of lips from another. The perfectly crafted mouths inviting, daring, almost touching Prowl, almost touching each other. "You're not too bad for an officer." The words some how transformed in the tactician's processor to say, 'You belong to us now' and he barely kept the doorwing trapped between the two from trembling violently.

Then their lips disappeared along with their heat and vibrations and Prowl suddenly felt like he could cycle air through his systems again. The twins didn't give him a second look, just moved through the conference room and into the hall, owning it as they did everything else they came across. Through the open door Prowl saw Hound stare at their retreating backs and then look into the room. Prowl was barely able to pull a chair out before he collapsed in it with as much dignity as he was able to muster.

Hound approached him with a sympathetic smile. "They didn't frighten you too much, did they? They like making an impression on all the new officers."

They certainly made an impression, Prowl didn't say. "They do have a certain presence about them." He admitted softly.

"That's putting it lightly. Are you okay?"

"They did not touch me."

"Oh, they wouldn't. Not yet, anyway." Hound offered out his hand. At first the tactician didn't reach for it, but he could feel the shaking in his legs and knew he wouldn't be able to walk properly for a moment. The scout's hand was warm and gentle and had the texture of earth. Some part of Prowl was disappointed by this. "I think you're safe from them. Well, safe from the sort of terror they generally strike in officers. You impressed them."

At the questioning look, Hound's friendly smile grew into something knowing and amused. "No one ever stood up for them before. And judging from their expressions, you're a challenge. They'll keep on you until you break, you know. They'll never leave you alone."

With his composure gathered tightly around him again, Prowl replied smoothly, "They will come to find that I will not easily break." Inside his spark fluttered, anxious to have them try.


	21. Everyone's a Winner

So, continuity-wise, this feels like it could fit best in the cartoon canon, but- obviously –it wouldn't actually be able to FIT in the timeline. But I guess that's not important. What is, I guess, is the fact Azure helped me write the ensuing porn that you can find on my lj, the link of which you can find in my profile.

Tugera: Believe it or not, I actually wasn't inspired by anything when I wrote that particular chapter. It wasn't until I had it up on my lj that one of my friends pointed me out to a similar sketch done on Robot Chicken. Kinda made me... smack myself in the head and go 'so much for originality...' XD

JML: btw, I don't know what your bunny is, but you should totally do it. (feeds bunny plot-steroids)

To everyone: It's highly unlikely I'll be continuing on that previous chapter just because I don't really know what I'd be doing with it. I'd love to see someone take the challenge up themselves, but I try to think about what else happens and I just hit a wall.

* * *

Title: Everyone's a Winner  
Fandom: Transformers  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Ratchet, Wheeljack, Hook, Scrapper  
Summary: Hook gets awarded. Scrapper makes sure it doesn't go to his head.

"I can't believe it."

Wheeljack resisted the urge to shake his head as Ratchet's litany made another round for the umpteenth time.

"I can't slagging believe it."

"C'mon, Ratch. It's had time to sink in by now."

The CMO gave Wheeljack an incredulous look. "Are you _serious_, Jack? How is this not _completely_ blowing your circuits? The first Cybertronian to be honored with the humans' Nobel Prize is a fragging _Decepticon_!"

"_Former_ Decepticon." He corrected. "The war's been over for a while-"

"Thirty years doesn't erase several _million_ of warfare."

"-and you know the humans were never able to keep track of who was in which faction. Hook's published some astounding biomedical research that's really helped to bolster the humans' development. It's not impossible for someone to _change_, ya know."

Ratchet made a 'pfft!' noise, crossing his arms and leaning back in the over-large seats that the Nobel Prize committee had set up for their large guests. "Have you ever even _spoken_ to him? The mech's a complete egotistical aft! I can't believe we were invited to honor _him_!"

So very put-upon dealing with Ratchet's complaining (not completely unwarranted, Wheeljack knew) the engineer's optics curled in a humored smile and he patted the red hand next to him. "Just sit back and let it happen, Ratchet. After this is over, you won't have to sit through it again." Unless Hook was awarded again, but Wheeljack felt it prudent to keep that part to himself.

Ratchet eyed the two Constructicons that were shown to their seats on the opposite side of the concert hall from the former Autobots. He stared at the front stage in a dark glower and chose to end the conversation with a 'hmph!'

* * *

This was very possibly the most boring thing Scrapper had ever been subjected to. Even between all the downtime trapped in a ship underwater, traveling to distant planets and humoring Scavenger by letting the shovel gush about whatever inane thing he found this time, sitting there and listening to some humans prattling on about historical medical achievements was by far the. Most. Boring. Not to mention the fact that they were going on about the great discoveries made by his already too-arrogant teammate. Scrapper wondered, not for the fiftieth time, why he agreed to come.

Across the way the other two Cybertronians didn't seem anymore enthralled than Scrapper was. Even Hook- who had been bragging about the award since the announcement (even though he kept saying the fact that it was from humans sullied the honor, but at least he was being recognized) –looked to be bored out of his processors.

To make matters worse, Hook had an acceptance speech. Scrapper heard this speech. Several dozen times. Asides from being longwinded and full of Hook's normal egotism, he heard it _several dozen times_. Scrapper would die a happy, happy mech if he didn't have to hear it again.

He unfolded his arms from where they were crossed over his chest and rested a hand on the seat's provided armrest. And on top of Hook's already resting hand. Scrapper felt the crane twitch slightly under him, but neither moved.

Until Scrapper began rubbing his thumb over the joints of Hook's knuckles.

_That_ got a nice little jolt. _'What are you doing?'_ The surgeon hissed over their tightlink.

_'Nothing.'_

_'Then stop that.'_

In reply, Scrapper twined his fingers around Hook's, sliding them enticingly over the thin plates. There was nothing about Hook's hands that Scrapper didn't know intimately well. He knew all the little areas that made shivers shoot across Hook's frame, the exact pressure against the precise seams to make the sensors in his palm go hypersensitive.

Next to him Hook shuddered. He kept from moaning softly out loud, but Scrapper heard it over their tightlink, felt it resonating through their gestalt link. He stroked those deft fingers long, slow, with just enough pressure that Hook couldn't stop himself from turning his hand over to grip back. His sensors begged to feel along Scrapper's palm, drink in the sensation and texture of his hand and wrist and to run over armor. Hook's other hand gripped its armrest so hard it was a surprise he didn't rip it off.

He gave his teammate a half-sparked glare, unsure if he wanted to payloader to stop or not. Why Hook thought he could take Scrapper anywhere, he had no idea.

* * *

When they finally announced the award and receiver, Ratchet shook himself back to awareness. Then recalled who it was being awarded and grumbled to himself, settling down for a looooong speech. A nudging from Wheeljack earned a low growl. He was nudged again and Wheeljack tilted his head towards the stage. Hook had made his way to the front but Ratchet couldn't help recycling his optics. He zoomed his gaze in, making sure he was seeing correctly.

Hook was shaking. Very, very slightly, imperceptibly to humans and probably most Cybertronians, but Ratchet's sharp optics could catch it. Not only was he shaking, but Ratchet's sensors picked up the spike in internal temperature and electrical signals.

The crane knelt by the stage as two men lifted an enlarged version of the Nobel Prize medal and diploma into Hook's waiting hand. If Ratchet hadn't been watching intently, he would've missed the shudder that passed through the green mech's frame as the objects dropped in his palm. Hook allowed the man on stage to shake a finger and he turned to regard the crowd and give the speech he had prepared.

Except his gaze kept straying to his teammate in the back and every time it did another fine shiver trembled through him. Finally Hook opened his mouth and said, "Your acknowledgement is appreciated and well deserved." He stood and strode purposefully back to his companion.

There was silence for a moment before Wheeljack started clapping. Ratchet followed suit with an amused smirk and the humans hesitantly followed their lead. The speaker, off-balanced at this turn of events, made his way back to the podium. Hook stopped long enough to drag an incredibly smug Scrapper out of his seat and out the back.

_'Well,'_ Ratchet said over their tightlink, _'I think I found a Decepticon I actually like!'_

Wheeljack didn't bother to correct him and just tittered to himself.


	22. Language Barrier

This story was inspired in part by Cafei prodding me but mostly from the song Maryanne by Tripod.

JML: You're right, that's mean of me to try and make them grow. (cultivates bunnies in secret)

Tugera: It's kind of amusing- asides from me I know at least two other people that think Hook has sensitive hands and none of us had ever discussed it before. I guess he just screams hand-kink to people XD

* * *

Title: Language Barrier  
Fandom: Transformers Movie 'verse  
Rating: G  
Characters: Secretary Keller, Optimus Prime  
Summary: Some aspects of humanity have a slightly higher learning curve.

Secretary Keller stared blankly at the opposite wall. "I'm sorry," he told the mouthpiece of his phone, "you did _what_ with Jazz's body?"

On the other end of the conference call, Optimus Prime's voice boomed all the way across the vast distance and resonated in his bones. "Some parts of his were integrated in our own bodies. Everything else has been stripped for use of parts." A long silence lapsed over the phone. "Secretary Keller? Is something wrong?"

"I- no, I… I guess. It's just…" He rubbed a hand over his face and blinked as if that would help the idea to sink in better. It really wasn't that much of a surprise, he told himself. Asides from their being giant, transforming robots that could do basically whatever the hell they wanted, they were _robots_. They probably replaced their parts all the time. Not all _that_ different from organ donors.

Keller didn't entirely convince himself on that just yet. "I apologize, that just… Well, it blew my brains, really."

Another long lapse fell over the conversation.

"Optimus Prime?"

"Secretary Keller, do you require medical assistance?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Your gray matter is supposed to be within your skull- are you in need of assistance?"

"What- no!"

"You said that your brains were blown."

"I- that was a metaphor, Optimus."

"A… metaphor?"

"Do you not have them?"

"Metaphors, according to your internet, is the comparison of two unlike objects."

"That's right."

"That seems highly inefficient."

The Defense Secretary put a hand to his forehead. If someone had told him he'd be explaining the finer points of language to a sentient, robotic extraterrestrial... "It sometimes helps people understand something by comparing it to something familiar. Like… like… 'smooth as a baby's bottom'."

"A… what?"

"A baby's bottom. See, it's- well, babies-" there was no way to explain that without sounding really creepy. "Never mind, bad example. Like something 'catching your eye'. It doesn't literally mean they have possession of your eye, it just means that it grabbed your attention. Understand?"

"So then," Optimus Prime said slowly, "when Mikaela told Sam to… 'chill out', Ironhide should not have dumped him into a lake in order to lower his core body temperature?"

He would not slap a hand to his face. He was too professional for that and they didn't know any better. "No. It just meant he should calm down."

"Ah. Now I understand why Bumblebee was so upset."

Keller wondered, if he were to get the Autobots some books on metaphors, if he could charge it to the government account.


	23. 1 Sentence Challenge II

Another set of 1-sentence challenges from my livejournal. I'm half considering starting a monthly 24-hour prompt thing on it. Sometimes 1-sentences, sometimes anything else I can think of. Don't know offhand how well I'd be able to keep up with school to contend with, but I guess if there's enough interest? Again, more of the slashy stuff will be towards the bottom.

* * *

Title: 1 Sentence Challenge  
Fandom: Transformers G1, one Movie-verse and a couple (surprise!) Jux-based sentences plus one Destruction 'verse sentence  
Rating: PG-13, I guess

**random Destruction 'verse sentence**

The teens snickered under the chorus of 'Two Princes' as the Wrecker said thoughtfully, "You know, I wondered why Jazz kept calling me Spin Doctor..."

**Chance!Ravage, Fireflight + cute overdose**

Of all the mechs on the ship, with all the various talents and intellect and skills and the many ways Ravage could completely blow his cover, the only one onboard he actually feared was the big red jet that want to cuddle him because he was cute (because he absolutely wasn't, fraggit all!).

**Metellus, Evelyn + protective**

Even though the lights normally didn't dim in Metellus, whenever Evelyn slept, the lights in her room went off and the temperature was carefully monitored and she knew, even as she drifted off, that she was being cared for.

**Springer + teddy bear**

The big green 'bot leaned down to little Annabelle as she told him her teddy kept her safe at night and asked, "Does it attack?"

**Ultra Magnus + "No you didn't."**

Hot Rod looked up at Ultra Magnus in awe and wondered how the hell he could keep a straight face and said, "I can't believe you just said that."

**Starscream + sparkling, s'il vous plait?** (twisting the wording of the prompt around :P)

Starscream looked at the little sparkling clinging to his wing and chirruping some nonsensical, backwater, hob-garbage language and told it, "You can 'silver play' somewhere else that's not attached to me!"

**Rumble + ocean**

Rumble wouldn't actually go around admitting it to anyone, but he had to give his props to the relentless power behind oceans, rivers, the power of this little planet's water as it slowly carved its way through even the hardest of stones.

**Cliffjumper commenting on Bluestreak and Fireflight's puppy eyes having a... "positive" affect on both sides**

Cliffjumper didn't know if he wanted to beat his head to smithereens against something or laugh until his fuel cells seized up so instead he asked, "If all it took was Bluestreak and Fireflight giving ol' Megs their little bumble-puppy look to get peace talks going- why the frag didn't this happen before?"

**Sideswipe + coffee**

Ratchet could feel his urge to kill rising as he said, "No, Sideswipe, there is no energon equivalent of a caramel double vanilla triple shot espresso latte and if I find out you made it, I will fragging end you!"

**Sunstreaker + chains**

It was like looking into the eyes of an animal, caged against its will, too savage to be let loose, too wild to be tamed and though he didn't test his bonds, he watched them with a snarl that thirsted for blood and they knew the moment he saw any sign of weakness, they were all dead.

**Fireflight + goose**

Air Raid was walking around the circle of Aerialbots for so long that Fireflight started drifting off in his own thoughts and almost completely missed when the black jet slapped his back and yelled, "GOOSE!"

**Prowl, Jazz + ice cube**

The other 'bots didn't know if they should die laughing or start preparing Jazz's funeral as Prowl flailed madly around, trying to dislodge the ice cube that went down his chassis as the saboteur said, "And that, my friends, is how you get a mech to dance."

**Grimlock + bored**

"Prowl, please alert all personnel that, in the future, if Grimlock is ever bored again, do not leave him unsupervised in Wheeljack's lab."

**Wheeljack + distraction**

Wheeljack was in the middle of mixing two components together when he heard Perceptor and Grapple talking about building a satellite to send microwave beams to gather energy from space and the next thing he knew, Wheeljack was on his back in the medbay.

**Air Raid, Optimus Prime + prank**

When Silverbolt asked if Air Raid had learned his lesson, obviously the right thing to say was not, "Next time I rig Optimus Prime's office with a water balloon catapult, I shouldn't write 'Air Raid was here' on his wall."

**Hook + terror**

"No," Hook whimpered, unable to yank his hand away, "no, no, please don't, please..." the hammer raised and he thrashed harder, but his captors were unmovable, "no, please, NO!"

**Scrapper + too late**

Hook was wrapped up tightly in Scavenger's arms, sedated and slowly offlining under Mixmaster's sharp watch while Long Haul and Bonecrusher cursed and smashed anything in reach and Scrapper could do nothing but stand in the crushed remains of Hook's hands and be a complete, useless failure.

**Scavenger + fix**

Hook couldn't hear anything but Scavenger babbled it anyway because it was the only thing that he could do, "He'll fix it, he'll take care of it, you know he will, Scrapper takes care of everything, he'll make it all better, it'll be like it never happened, it'll be okay, you'll be okay, we'll all be okay again, I promise, everything will be fine," and he babbled on and on and none of the other Constructicons had the spark to make him stop.

**Scrapper/Hook + fluff**

None of the other Constructicons bothered him asides from bringing him energon and made half-sparked attempts to get him to recharge- nothing could stop Scrapper when he was like this, and nothing could pull him away from plans to reconstruct Hook's hands, not until they were absolutely perfect.

**Constructicons + gift**

It wasn't the promise (and fulfillment) of getting his captors' spark casings on a spike, or the hands that Scrapper had designed and carefully oversaw construction of, or the way Long Haul and Bonecrusher never minded following Hook even on mundane trips that made the crane grateful for his brothers; it was the way they all waited at his side- ever patient and forever understanding -as he regained his confidence that made him proud to have them in his life.

**Fireflight + nightmares**

He didn't know whose arms it was that pulled him out of recharge and he really couldn't remember what he dreamt that had his internals flushed and racing, but it wasn't until all four of his brothers were clustered around him, running soothing hands over his fuselage and wings that Fireflight felt safe again.

**Fireflight, Sandstorm + button reading "Shy Introvert. Please say Hi."**

Skydive just looked at the button, then looked up at his beaming teammate and said, "Sometimes I wonder about some of these gifts Sandstorm gets you..."

**Fireflight, Sandstorm + almost lover**

He reached over and wrapped an arm around his buddy's shoulders, pulling him away with a "Trust me, this is for your own good," just as the jet his buddy had been flirting with happily ran in to the arms of a much bigger and much stronger mech.

**Wreckers on Flight/Sandy + "Wait he lasted how long?"**

It wasn't so much Fireflight bounding down the hall with a cheerful, "Morning!" that got them as it was the fact someone had to drag a thoroughly exhausted Sandstorm from his berth that made the other Wreckers laugh themselves sick.

**Fireflight, Sandstorm + sly**

His gambling buddies had asked Sandstorm if he had the time to join them for a few rounds (which, as they all knew, would end up with them playing until they had shifts in the morning) and at first he agreed, but when Sandstorm reached into his compartment to bring out his dice and found a note from Fireflight wanting to go for a fly-around, he decided to bow out and headed for the hangars instead.

**Fireflight, Sandstorm + intensity**

Fireflight had never felt anything so acutely- the rattling of air in the vents, the thrumming of life in the Hub, the texture of armor under his hands, how incredibly bright Sandstorm's optics were, how open and handsome his face was beneath his battlemask -the moment the Wrecker said, "I love you."

**Fireflight, Sandstorm + not so innocent**

Warm hands stroked over his helmet and drew him to look into bright blue optics that said all the things Fireflight couldn't, 'It doesn't matter what you did in the past, all that matters is you're here with me now'.

**Fireflight, Sandstorm + convention**

Sandstorm's head whirled, so simultaneously shocked and turned on when Fireflight grabbed his aft and said in an almost uncharacteristically dominate way he was looking forward to seeing the triplechanger after their shifts that he couldn't even bring himself to snap at all the gappers standing around, "What is this, a staring convention?"

**Springer, Prowl + compromising positions**

No snarky comments or sharp barbs were coming to Springer's head as he stared down at Prowl who growled up very slowly and very clearly, "If you do not move your hand this instant I will have it removed at the wrist."

**Springer, Prowl + sequel to above, "I can't."**

He didn't think Prowl would appreciated the fact that he was kind of stuck with his hand in a rather improper area and as he tried to twist and tug his hand out, Prowl bit back moans and shudders and gripped hard at his shoulders and Springer figured he could hold off on telling him just a bit longer...

**Prowl, Sideswipe + implied smuttiness if possible**

Sideswipe didn't tell anyone, but the reason why he kept putting buckets of oil (or, really, any other slick, sticky fluid) over Prowl's door was because there was something about it dripping all over the officer that made it hot


	24. A Push Too Far

So I'm nearing the end of already completed drabbles in about... four or so updates. Just to let you know that, once the end of those have been reached, you'll be waiting however long it takes me to write up another one. Be it a couple days to a couple weeks.

* * *

Title: A Push Too Far  
Fandom: Transformers G1  
Rating: PG-13? Ish?  
Characters: Motormaster, Scrapper, background Constructicons, Megatron, Starscream and Onslaught  
Summary: Motormaster hates weaklings. Scrapper deals in his own way.

It would've been so easy to turn Scrapper- to use the vernacular –into the whipping boy. Motormaster had seen just about every Decepticon get their little snide comments on him with barely a look of consideration. Those air-headed Seekers- Starscream in particular would rant at him until Long Haul and Bonecrusher looked ready to rip him apart, one excruciating panel at a time, and yet Scrapper just calmly let it happen. And if Megatron didn't blame his second, then it was Scrapper's designs that caused their most recent failures and he took that, too. Even the Cassettes got in their underhanded jabs.

Motormaster thought it was all sickeningly pitiful. Scrapper wouldn't stress one servo, make one complaint to it all. He even took it from his own _team_. The Stunticon could hear, muffled through the walls of the Constructicons' squadbay, Hook berating Scrapper for some reason or other. Motormaster didn't understand why Scrapper was the Constructicon leader. He didn't know _how_ he could be the leader- not when he wouldn't stand up for himself, not when he let his own team disrespect him. It made Scrapper weak and it made the Constructicons even weaker for deferring to him.

If he could pin the Decepticons' biggest flaw on anyone one, it was the Constructicons. Motormaster hated the weak and he hated Scrapper and his team.

The truck snarled to himself, stomping down the halls of the _Nemisis_ for yet another meeting with the other officers (that pathetic payloader included). It wasn't so much the meeting and those present that had him even more torqued than usual. Motormaster's forcefield generator had been damaged in the last skirmish with the Autobots, causing it to fluctuate wildly before finally fritzing out completely almost a deca-cycle later. Motormaster hated the Constructicons and he hated that he had to go down to the medbay to get looked at.

He hated big-mouth Bonecrusher restraining him, hated tweaked-out Mixmaster sedating him and smarmy Hook opening him up to get to the generator. The last thing he recalled before going under was how much he hated them and, when he cycled online again, he grabbed at the closest thing intent on destroying it.

That closest thing was Scavenger, loosening the restraints.

The little crane squealed under Motormaster's violent grip, ripping into the useless thing until something burned brilliant-hot all along his back. He roared in pain, catching Mixmaster's head in his hand before he even turned around, slamming the chemist into the wall.

He _hated_ these cowardly weaklings! He wanted them _dead_! Megatron had no real use for them- they contributed _nothing_ to the cause-

The call for the meeting had come in while he was in the middle of ripping Mixmaster's chestplate off and, with great restraint, he pulled himself away just as the doors to the medbay opened and there was Bonecrusher and Hook and Scrapper.

Motormaster brushed right past them as if they didn't even exist. Bonecrusher snarled, whirling on Motormaster-

Scrapper snapped at him, telling him to help Hook get the two onto berths, calling up Long Haul to get back to the medbay _immedeatly_…

By the time the Constructicon finally made it to the meeting, Motormaster was seated smugly, waiting to see what he'd do.

"You're late." Megatron growled.

"I apologize." Scrapper's tone wasn't quite calm, a hint of ice burning along the edges. "There was an incident in the medbay that needed to be taken care of."

"Was there?" Though Megatron's words were questioning, the payloader ignored it with ease, taking his usual seat and waiting for the meeting to start. As talks progressed and it became apparent the Stunticons wouldn't be involved (which Motormaster believed was due to the injury done on his back- yet another reason to hate Constructicons) the truck leaned forward and scowled at the plans.

Still nothing from that little wimp. He sneered openly at Scrapper. Motormaster had hope for _some_ kind of reaction, practically _wanted_ him to tell Megatron but _no_. That weak little fragger was going to sit on this just like he did everything else, too afraid to take any action.

Abruptly Megatron stood and dismissed his officers and as he stood, Scrapper asked, "Just to be certain, the Stunticons will not be used in this plan, correct?"

The tyrant gave Scrapper a long, measured look, as if trying to figure out where the question had come from. "No. They'll remain here."

"Just wanted to clarify."

Motormaster didn't know why he asked, nor did he really care. But as he stepped out of the conference room the weak little fragger said, "Motormaster, I want a word with you."

Oh, demanding now, was he? The Stunticon turned with a biting, "What do-"

A very sharp, very sudden pain lanced throughout his body, snapping all thought from his head, sensory net going haywire as Scrapper _twisted_ whatever the hell he stabbed into Motormaster's side. His motor functions seized up, freezing him completely, slowly overbalancing to one side before crashing down in a cascade of pain and metal and stiff limbs.

Scrapper knelt down next to him, wrenching Motormaster's head to the side and _forcing_ the larger mech to look him in the optics. "If you _ever_ lay a hand on any of my mechs again," he seethed, visor the unforgiving burn of a neutron star, "I will have your internals strung up for light fixtures and reconstruct you as a targeting drone. Do _not_ test me."

He slammed Motormaster's head back to the deack and the three remaining officers- Soundwave, Starscream and Onslaught –stepped aside to let Scrapper march swiftly back to the medbay. The communications officer spared Motormaster an exasperated look while Starscream merely chuckled.

"Don't try to delude yourself into thinking that was a mere threat." The Seeker teased with a wide grin. "You'd hardly be the first he's done that to." With that he strode off, still cackling happily to himself.

Onslaught leaned down, just slightly, with amusement evident in his optics. "You're young," he said mildly, "but a smart mech would know not to torque off those that know every inch of their anatomy." Motormaster could do nothing but glare at the Combaticon as he walked off, still lying motionless in the middle of the hall.

He so very much hated Scrapper.


	25. Not Without Fault

So there was always something about Spotlight: Kup and some reactions to it that bothered me subconsciously and I didn't realize what it was until I was rereading it. Everyone- including himself –blamed Springer for the deaths of the Autobots that tried to retrieve Kup even though _he wasn't there_. He put Perceptor in charge until he could actually make it to Ark-17. In the issue he shows up after the first failed attempt (of which it's heavily implied it was far from the first time). He says, quote:

"…I'm eager to know what sort of mess you and the rest of the crew of Ark-17 are making of this exercise, Perceptor. When Autobot Intelligence sent word that Kup had been found after all this time, I thought I could trust you and your team with the task of retrieving him."

Of course, I try to put this into a drabble and Springer still managed to take the blame himself like the idiot he is. (sighs)

* * *

Title: Not Without Fault  
Fandom: Transformers IDW  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Roadbuster, Springer  
Summary: Takes place after Springer returns to his team after Spotlight: Kup. Every death is a failure.

Roadbuster was the only one waiting for him when he docked on Xantium again, arms crossed with the hidden notes of worry in his one-word greeting of, "Well?"

"He's alive." Springer answered. His tone and posture answered everything else. "If that's enough."

"What else happened?" The triplechanger didn't reply, the edges of his lips cinched tight and as he tried to walk by, Roadbuster's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "What happened?"

"…they're dead."

"Who?"

"Lots. Too many." Springer bowed his head, but he made no move to leave. "I should've waited, I should've planned better, I should've-"

A sharp jostle cut off his words. "_Stop that_." Roadbuster hissed. "Don't you dare try to shoulder the responsibility for this."

"It _is_ my responsibility! _I_ sanctioned this mission!"

"And you gave command of it to Perceptor and Ark-17 until you were able take over! Springer," he gripped at his friend's shoulder, trying to make him understand, "you can't keep blaming yourself for things you can't control. You're never fast enough, you didn't plan for that one contingency, you didn't do something well enough- just _stop_. You can't be everywhere, Springer. You can't do everything and that's _not_ your fault. If you were there at the beginning, _maybe_ those mechs wouldn't have died, but you _couldn't_ and that's _not your fault_."

Roadbuster cupped the curve of Springer's helmet in his hands, forcing the other to look at him. "You can't keep beating yourself up for what's happened in the past. Especially when the situation is out of your control."

Springer just looked up at him, optics dim and listless. Then he pulled back and stepped around the combat vehicle without another word.


	26. The Beginning of a Beautiful Something

And it's official. Thundercracker and Skywarp now have TFA toys as their respectively colored clones. This takes place after A Bridge Too Close because, really, how can I NOT be expected to abuse my two favorite Seekers?

* * *

Title: The Beginning of a Beautiful… Something  
Fandom: Transformers: Animated  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Egomaniac, Coward  
Summary: Under protest of being cliché, there really MIGHT be more to these clones than meets the eye.

He yelped as gunfire strafed over his wing (argh, his beautiful wing! Those worthless, doltheaded half-wits will _pay_ for striking his beautiful wing!) and twisted in the sky too fast for their guns to follow.

"Coward!" He roared as his null rays flashed, hitting their marks with such effortless precision (or near precision- he must not have gotten all that disgusting cement out of his weapons relays, that had to be why he wasn't getting clean hits). "Come out and fight!"

Said coward just hunkered down lower in his hidey spot behind some boulders, hands protecting his head. "No! I don't wanna get shot! Make them go away!"

"You worthless, strutless waste of perfectly-good-yet-still-incomparable-to-my-own material! Fight like a Decepticon!"

"I'm too sca-a-a-ared!" Came the pathetic wail.

The blue jet's sharp optics caught sight of Autobots approaching his black counterpart's position. Briefly he considered letting them take the useless thing but the fact was they'd be associated together. If they caught him, saw how pitiful he truly was, they'd only believe _he'd_ be as pathetic and simpering.

"Rahhgh! I won't let _anyone_ look down on me!" Thrusters flaring like a supernova, he dove through the oncoming fire, dodged their foolish attempts of attack like the untouchable master they'd soon realize him to be. He swept low over the ground, skimming the jagged landscape with fearless ease. A hand reached out, hooking at the collar of black armor and the mighty, awe-inspiring roar of superior engines shot the two high into open sky.

"Helpless _dolt_!" He snapped at the whimpering jet in his grip. "I'd have better luck having a _petro-rabbit_ watching my- ARRGH!"

A shot (not even lucky- just a fluke!) caught him in the back, making his sensors fritz wildly for a moment. Unable to control himself the blue jet felt the world spinning right up at him-

Something looped around his waist, twisting him about, air straining against his wings as someone _pulled_ him skyward. A black arm come up next to his head and shot- and _hit_ -the Autobot jet following the two, knocking him out of the air.

He looked up, stunned, into the equally stunned expression of his less-capable compatriot. "You…"

The dark jet looked at what exactly he had his arm wrapped around. Then promptly let go with a yelp. "I'm sorry- please don't hurt me!"

With a completely dignified squawk, the all-round better jet caught himself in mid-fall and swooped up until the two were level. "Idiot." He grumbled. Then, slowly, said, "You actually did something right."

"I… I did? Oh no! I didn't mean to, it was an accident- I _swear_!"

"That doesn't surprise me. But you may not be _completely_ useless to me."

"But-"

"Shut up." He reached over and ganked at this counterpart's wrist. "Would you rather be worthless and have me leave you to rot somewhere, or be useful and I may let you stick around for a while?"

"Oh please don't make me decide! What if I choose wrong?"

This was going to be _aggravating_. "You're staying with me for now," came the snapped order, "and if anyone's going to regret this, it'll be _me_. And I _never_ make a mistake. Got it?"

"P-Please don't grab me so hard. And this is really, really high…"

Feh. That'll have to do for now…


	27. Backstory Challenge part 1

So I made a mistake when doing my first monthly 24-hour challenge. I let people do up to three prompts at once. Haha, yeah- it took me nearly 24 hours to COMPLETE the challenge... Note to self: don't do more than one prompt per person unless it's another 1-sentence challenge...

* * *

Title: Backstory Challenge (part 1)  
Fandom: three TFA, the rest... uh, gen 1 as I see it?  
Rating: PG-13

TFA Bulkhead  
He sighed, stretching out short, thick legs and running the tired old argument through his memory again. It wasn't that he didn't like the energon farm, exactly, he just... wanted something else was all.

"Cube for your thoughts?"

Bulkhead looked at the cube, then up at the tanker offering it. "Oh, uh, thanks Wheeler."

The two large mechs sat watching the stars over the glow of energon processing machines and let the night sink around them.

"Ya know," Wheeler said in that slow, easy way he did everything, "I don't get why you wanna do the space bridge thing. You say you wanna see the universe, to me it seems like you'll just be seeing machines."

"At least it'll be in different places."

A hand smacked across Bulkhead's back, nearly bowling him forward. "Good luck with it!" As Bulkhead stared at Wheeler, surprised for the support, the tanker laughed. "If all that yelling Flatbed's done at you hasn't stopped you wanting to do this yet, I don't think anything will."

He smiled, soft and relieved. "Thanks, Wheeler."

TFA Starscream  
This was it. The war was over, it had finished. Everything he'd fought so hard for, wanted so badly and it was all falling away from them on a little planet they were now exiled from.

Because they'd fought. And they lost. And now their home was forever banned to them.

Starscream twisted on a turbine and marched across the observation deck, purposefully jostling Megatron as he passed. "Well done, mighty leader."

TFA Twins  
They were the best. Hands down, uncontested, numero uno (and uno redux) the greatest pair of fighters to come out of their entire decade in the academy. Getting into and through training for the Elite Guard, for them, was going to be a snap.

Which not at all explained why they were both face down on the training mat while a skinny little black slip of a cycle glared down at them. "If you're done wasting my time…"

Blades  
_Obsolete_

_Worthless waste of parts_

_Just getting in the way of our sky_

They didn't even try to hide their contempt for Blades and his kind, those high-and-mighty jets thinking they had monopoly over the air. Blades sneered back at them, snappish and cruel. They had nothing, just speed. So what?

He was better than them. He could do things they could only imagine. He'd show them, Blades vowed to himself. Just because a helo didn't have the speed didn't mean they were useless.

Most jets couldn't move vertically, jets didn't have the mobility a helo did, they couldn't perform all the tasks they looked down on helos being able to accomplish.

But he'd show them. He'd be the most skilled helo in the Autobot ranks and he'll show each and every one of those airheads just what a helo could do.

Blaster  
With Inferno leaning in on his shoulder and Skysail at his elbow, Blaster was finding it hard to work. "You know that thing 'bout being inconspicuous?" He asked irritably, "This ain't being it."

The two backed up slightly but still crowded in on Blaster's workspot. He harshly cycled out some air but just let it slide.

"Hope this works," Inferno muttered to himself.

"If it works, it works," Skysail muttered back, "and if it doesn't, it doesn't."

"And if Kup finds out, our collective chassis is fried." Springer added from where he sat far from Blaster on the berth. At least someone had the sense to give him some room.

"I can do this." Blaster half snapped. "If I could have some space..." The two at his back didn't move away, but they also didn't move in any closer, just stood by and watched as Blaster connected bits of a datapad together, then gutted another to do the same.

The red mech finally snapped both datapad casings shut and tossed one at Springer. "Here, let's see if this works." They both turned the pads on and Blaster typed in on his.

After half a klik a message came up on Springer's that read:

_BLA: testing_

To which Blaster got the reply on his:

_SPR: received_

Inferno and Skysail whooped as Blaster turned to his fellow officers in training. "Gentlemechs, we now have wireless chatting capabilities."

Bluestreak  
"Blue!"

The young mech, his expression going from confused to bright as he greeted back, "Lowrun! How's it going?"

"Hectic," the cargo truck said with a tired, happy smile, "but at least I'm making some money, huh? What're you up to?"

"Just running some errands for Bracket right now."

Lowrun pulled Bluestreak into a half-hug, half-chokehold. "You're a good kid, you know that, Blue? If only my own workers were like you. You sure you don't want to transfer over to me?"

Bluestreak laughed, not really fighting the hold. "I like where I am, thanks, Low. Besides, your workers would get tired of a chatterbox like me!"

"But you're the best gopher Praxus has! And your chattering is part of what makes you so cute!"

Bluestreak's faceplates pinched together in mild aggravation. "I am not cute."

Lowrun poked at his nasal ridge. "You're cute, Blue. As much as you want to deny it, you are and always will be."

The young mech couldn't hold the expression, dissolving into snickers. "Whatever you say, Low. You're the only one that thinks that, anyway."

"I'll bet."

Brawn  
They didn't know how to treat him anymore. He wasn't a miner, but he had a drill, did that make him a miner? Did that mean he'd betray everyone for a mech he's never seen and a cause he didn't understand? For Primus sake- they were in Altihex. Just because something happened in Kaon didn't mean it was going to happen here.

He was a specialist. He had work to do and if others saw him take out his drill and winced, well... that was their problem.

Judgmental fools.

Brawn  
He didn't know what it was about himself that made the other minibots sort of... congregate (is that the right word?) around him and after a while Brawn didn't really care (too much).

Most of them were young and impulsive and needed a... well, not a role model (because Brawn sure as hell didn't consider himself one) but someone to... look up to? Look after them? Did he look after them?

Sure, he stood up for a couple of them whenever one of the taller mechs tried to give them a rough time, but was that really looking after them? For their size minibots were notoriously tough so it's not like he really worried about them in a fight. Except for a couple. A couple of them he'd grown fond of. And whenever someone got injured in a battle. Then he worried. Kind of.

Someone had to deal with the little guys, right? And just because Brawn was the most veteran of them all, it was only natural they came to him, right?

Right.

Just because he didn't back down from normal sized 'bots and gave advice to other minitbots on how to deal with them and tried to help a hurt comrade whenever he could didn't make, like, special or anything. It was just what a good Autobot did.

Counter/Punch  
A fist slammed him into the wall, the butt of a rifle slammed him into the ground and a foot pinned him there.

"Traitor," a voice somewhere above him seethed, "I'll have you begging for death."

"N-No! Wait! Please," he shuddered, "you have it all wrong! I'm not- not... I'm not a traitor!"

The foot slammed down between his shoulder components, sending shocks of pain up and down his spinal column. "You gave the Autobots secret information! How does that _not_ make you a traitor?"

"False information!" He squeaked, trying to squirm away. "It wasn't real! I planted false information and gleaned some classified stuff from them! I swear I'm telling the truth!"

For a brief moment the pressure increased and he choked on the dirt and debris getting into his vents. Then the pressure lifted and he felt himself jerked upright.

"Alright, Counterpunch, you have once chance to convince me. If I'm not, you'll regret ever existing."

Fireflight  
He was on a meandering flight path over some ridges when the rest of the Aerialbots caught up to him.

"Fireflight," Silverbolt called out- his tone carefully measured and neutral, not wanting to sound accusatory until he knew what was going on, "you're out of formation." Slingshot was kept discreetly at the back to keep from making an acrid comment.

"Sorry." The red jet said meekly, suddenly realizing that- on their first official outing as a team he'd wandered off on his own. "I just... saw something odd."

Slingshot muttered something that was quickly shushed by Skydive telling him that Silverbolt was dealing with it.

"What did you see?" The large jet asked patiently.

"I saw a ground vehicle going up on the western path from the base."

The rest of the Aerialbots paused. "What vehicle? Nothing showed up on our radar."

"Yeah, didn't come up on mine, either. I thought it was kinda weird so I followed it and I think it's heading towards Decepticon territory."

"Waaaait a klik," Slingshot broke in, "how did you see it if it didn't come up on radar and no one else saw it?"

Fireflight waggled his wings in a jet-version of a shrug. "Dunno. Just did."

"Hey- I think I see it!" Air Raid called out, looking through his imager. "Big cab with mid-grade armor, right?"

"Yeah, that's it."

The five jets meandered in small circles and Silverbolt could feel the other four focusing on him expectantly.

"Change in exercise," he told them, "we're going to follow this vehicle without alerting it to our presence."

The others crowed happily. "Copy!"

First Aid  
First Aid looked over his new team, worried and uncertain how he could have been put into a situation like this. The only reason he had even chosen a side at all was out of necessity. Without supplies, the neutral hospitals had all shut down and First Aid couldn't _not_ work on those in need.

And now here he was, a committed pacifist in an Autobot special team and what did he have? A gung-ho search and rescue commander, an overly aggressive helo and a police interceptor careerist. The only one First Aid hadn't heard anything about was the hovercyle, Groove.

"Hey there, First Aid," Groove greeted him with a congenial smile, "Blades told me you refuse to carry a weapon."

With his frown hidden beneath his mask, First Aid hoped he didn't have to fight the same argument he'd just gotten over with his teammate. "That's right."

"Good for you." First Aid thought his systems hitched, but Groove continued right on. "Wish I had as much strength in my convictions." He smiled warmly at First Aid and told him, "It's a brave thing for you to stick with, especially in this time and age. Don't let anyone tell you different."

First Aid smiled back and was grateful to have Groove on his team.

Hound  
It was probably a silly reason to get into it and he could certainly pass it off for a legitimate skill now but Hound, frankly, hated using his holoprojector as part of someone's battle tactics.

He didn't get a projector to fool someone, he didn't learn how to create and manipulate holoimages to make someone not see a trap that was there. He did it because captures just... well, they weren't enough.

A still image didn't have the same kind of form and texture life did. Vids didn't have the same dimensionality and smells that being there possessed. But Hound wanted to bring the wonders of life and new discoveries everywhere he could.

He didn't spend countless cycles experimenting with the play of light, each individual movement of an organic and enhancing his own olfactory sensors to get the smells just right to fool anyone or to show off. He just wanted to educated others, let them see whole worlds out there that they'd never bother looking at once if he couldn't bring it to them.

Hound wanted his skills with his holoprojector to inspire and awe. Not to distract while war destroyed what it was he loved.

Impactor  
"Emirate Xaaron will see you now."

The two mechs made their way into the back room and Springer asked lowly, "Are you sure it's a good idea for me to be here?"

"Absolutely." Impactor replied neither expression nor stride breaking. "I need a witness to see what a giant pain in the transistors Xaaron is."

Springer was pretty certain talking about an Emirate that way was probably against some sort of protocol, but he wasn't about to bring something like that up.

As they entered the office to an unimposing and relatively small mech behind a desk, the first thing they were greeted with was, "Impactor, are you so imposed by me you felt the need to bring along a bodyguard?"

"Watch your vocalizer, wily old buzzard. Don't corrupt my impressionable officer."

"The mere fact he's with you means he's far beyond any help of redemption."

Impactor broke out into a wide grin, hands on his hip components. "How've you been, Xaaron?"

The small Emirate smiled in return, looking relaxed in their presence. "Better now that I have someone I can abuse."

"That's why I brought him," Impactor said with a pat to Springer's shoulder that sent the triplechanger forward a few steps, "so feel free to abuse away. Xaaron, this is Springer. Springer, this is the wily old buzzard I've told you about."

As Springer bowed his head respectfully, Xaaron stood congenially. "I assure you all he said were lies."

Springer looked at Xaaron, his warm smile and easy banter and couldn't help but grin back.

Inferno  
Quint ranted at the young mech with all the rage the blazing fire behind him had. "You idiot, Inferno! You could've gotten yourself killed in there!"

Inferno was going to quip something off-handed and amusing but had trouble with a medical team trying to dislodge all the ash and metal fragments that got inside of him.

"You need to think! You can't just run into the middle of whatever's burning and expect to come out as easy as you did this time!" Because coming out half melted was definitely getting off easy. "There's procedures for these situations! They're there to keep us safe!"

Inferno waved a hand, trying to mime his defense while a vacuum tube was stuck down his mouth, trying to clear out the debris that cycled into his internals.

Quint shook his head at the sight, then turned to look at the three other 'bots being treated for burns, overheating and melted components. Mechs that Inferno had barely been able to pull out of a collapsed portion of the burning building. He turned back to Inferno and told him honestly, "Thank you. Don't ever do that again."

Ironhide  
_It'll pass over._

_These are just some unruly mechs, nothing serious._

_We can handle them easily._

_You're worrying far too much.  
_  
Ironhide had to wonder what part of the Sonic Canyons those 'bots had been hiding. Unruly mechs? Not serious? Easy?

Of course. Because they managed to kill a majority of the Senate, raze Kaon to the ground and killed Prime, they were obviously pushovers.

No, this was beyond serious. This was a crossroads they were standing at. One road would lead them to being conquered by these rioting mechs, the other would lead to a civil war and Ironhide could see that as plainly as he could read a news bulletin. It didn't even take experience or age to see that, just one look at the mech in charge- this Megatron character -and it was obvious that these mechs would not go down willingly. Not without a fight and not without every last one of them dead.

What was worse, Ironhide knew, was that they had a message. They weren't going to take the status quo any longer. They were rebelling against society as a whole and they were going to shake the very structure of their civilization and Ironhide knew it.

He knew every other 'bot unhappy with their lot in life, all those that had been stepped and treaded on by society and the government, every single Autobot that was beaten down for standing up for what they believed in- watching as those they respected were beaten down, they would all swarm to this cause.

This was no longer a simple riot. It was a stand. A statement. And Ironhide knew, now that their message was out, a rift would form in their race that nothing short of absolute victory by either side would ever mend.

Jazz  
It wasn't so much that Cybertronians didn't have music in their culture as it was it just not deemed an important part of their civilization. So many other races made music an integral part of their lives, but not Cybertronians.

It was deemed inefficient as a means of communication and why listen to something if you're not getting some kind of information from it? Which didn't mean that there was no music on Cybertron at all, it was just looked down on.

Which, to Jazz, was a sad and narrow-thinking way of going about it. Maybe he just liked learning new things, maybe he was just more open to the new and strange, but he liked listening to different cultures' music. He found, more than the words, the notes held a message. The rhythm and pace and instruments said as much as anything else. They created a mood words could not.

So he went through Iacon's lower quarter where refugees from Kaon were all huddled together, trying to survive among the hostility of the already overpacked slums and he listened. And, to defy all expectations, he heard music.

He followed the source to a small little alleyway and there, in the midst of all the trash, a little 'bot had created makeshift instruments from whatever was laying around. The steady drip from a broken hydraulic pipe on a thin plastic sheet created the beat, the high whine of a tire rubbed over wire filament an accompaniment and metallic canisters of varying sizes and materials were pounded on to create an eerily precise melody.

Jazz stood and listened to song after song, hearing how each one differed in melody and mood. He heard how minor changes gave the song an entirely new meaning and how each layer of beat made it a complete whole.

"Hey," he finally said, stepping into the alley.

Abruptly the music stopped and the bot sat silent and tense, ready to bolt.

"Hey," he said again, smile as open and easy as he could make it, "could you show me how to play like that?"

Jetfire  
He'd been warned before hand that his new crew was... a little on the difficult side. Jetfire didn't think they could possibly be as bad as rumor made them out to be. They were all scientists, after all. How much trouble could they really be?

The first thing he heard as he stepped aboard the bridge of the Calabi-Yau was:

"Afterburner! Leave Strafe alone before I put cuffs on you!"

"After what he said?"

"I don't care what he said- I care that you're trying to rip his head off!"

"I told you, Shot! I told you he's trying to kill me!"

"That's because you keep provoking him."

"Nosecone- you're not helping. Afterburner- down. Now. And Strafe, just shut up."

"You bots really need to calm down, you know that?"

"You can shut it, too, Lightspeed."

Jetfire mentally retracted his previous assumption. Sounded like he had some serious work ahead of him.

Kup  
He glared at the young punk that barely even attempted to look contrite. "Rash, hot-headed, turbo-charged fool! Did you even think about what you were doing?"

"Sorry, sir." The kid could almost pass for innocent if he hadn't heard low mutters of 'rusted old coot' and 'outdated relic' from that same brat not half a mega cycle ago. "Won't happen again."

"I'll bet." He glared. "You're on office hours for the next stellar cycle."

"What? Aw, c'mon!"

"Don't give me that! Kup, if you don't learn to think you'll never get to be half my age."

"Who'd wanna be a decrepit old junker..." he muttered just loud enough.

"Two stellar cycles."

"_What_?"

Mirage  
He didn't belong here and he knew it. They all knew it but there wasn't much a choice for him, was there? Him or anyone. They had all lost something in this war and then, eventually, they all lost everything.

Their cities, their loved ones, their entire planet and still they fought on and Mirage wondered if anyone even knew why.

They've all lost everything and yet, somehow, Mirage felt like he'd lost more than anyone else. Here in the Autobots, who he was didn't matter. All his wealth, his history, where and who created him meant nothing. The businesses he ran, his annual charity donation toward the lower class, those politicians and corporate owners he entertained, the size of his living quarters in the largest, most stunning spire of Iacon- it meant nothing.

He had nothing. No social standing, no status, no finances, no friends or family or data. So many had lost everything but none had fallen so far as Mirage had and none of them understood how out of his depths he was. There was nothing familiar to anchor him now-

A turbo-fox sped across his path and Mirage stared at it, too shocked to even draw his hunting blaster to tag it. And then it vanished before his optics.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" Mirage looked up to see a green mech smiling apologetically at him, waving his hands. He recalled seeing this mech around, showing off his skills with the holoprojector mounted on his shoulder. "I didn't mean to startle you."

The other mechs around him didn't seem too bothered by anything and Mirage looked back at the deck at where the turbo-fox had vanished. For the briefest moment he'd seen a piece of his old life again and that made him feel more alone then ever.

He looked back up at the mech and asked, "Please, could you do that again?"

_(continuation by the original requestor, mommimus prime, which I like too much to leave out)_

Hound looked startled at the request. He'd heard about this one: cool, aloof, some even said he was a snob. Hound, though, saw something else. He approached the mech and gave him a wary smile.

"You want to see the foxes again? Sure." A pack of foxes appeared out of nowhere, tumbling, growling and snapping playfully at each other, oblivious to the two watching them.

Hound wasn't sure what the other mech was thinking. Mirage's face was blank as he followed the images with his optics. He stood next to the aristocrat and wondered when Cybertron had grown so empty that mere images of gossamer light could be comforting.

Mixmaster  
It was a celebratory drink, he knew that but that didn't mean that they should celebrate with energon not worth one credit.

"Don't even bother." Mixmaster said, blocking Hook's hand with his own. The crane glared at him, pausing a moment to look at Scrapper. The payloader knew Mixmaster better, but that didn't mean he'd say anything against him, either.

So while Scrapper just shrugged, Hook continued to glare at Mixmaster, stepping around the large drum as the latter wiggled his fingers, carefully scrutinizing each case of energon as if he were mixing a volatile batch of bases.

After passing through the aisle, Mixmaster yet again led them out of the store. Hook finally groused out, "And what is wrong with everything in _that_ store?"

"This is a celebration, right? We want to celebrate, right? Right? If we do so, we do so with something good. That's the point of celebrating."

"I don't want to waste our hard earned money on sub-par energon." Scrapper agreed and, when put like that, Hook had to agree, too.

"And where," the engineer asked sarcastically, "are we to find energon that's within both our budget and up to our standards? That you didn't make." Hook added hastily.

"I'm hurt." Came the cackled retort. Perhaps if they'd known each other longer Hook would feel different about that, but Mixmaster doubted it. For some reason others seemed reluctant to drink whatever he created. "We could easily buy a bottle from Maccadam."

Scrapper hummed thoughtfully. "Maccadam _does_ offer premium drinks for those that can pay."

"I can attest to this. Of all the bars in possibly the entire quadrant, Maccadam's is the best."

Hook shook his head. "I suppose coming from someone built to deal with chemicals and mixtures that's the best endorsement to have. But someone did insinuate," he cast a look at Scrapper, "that I was incapable of holding my high-grade and I do look forward to proving them wrong."

With a carefully hidden grin, Scrapper waved an arm. "You heard the mech, Mixmaster. Let's get our drink and head back to our quarters for a proper celebration."

Optimus Prime  
He looked at the Council in shock. "This... this can't be right...!"

"It is. You have been chosen."

"But I can't- I-I don't know how to lead a military! I've only done basic officer training, I've never attempted an actual position on the field!"

The elder mechs looked down from their high seats, unimpressed with the reluctance displayed before them. "The choice has been made. You are to be the new Prime."

"I can't!"

"You will. There is nothing for you to do but accept this. You must accept this. Our race needs a leader to combat these rioters and you are the one that must do it."

His hands clenched into pulsing fists, too scared to look up at them, to look at the responsibility shinning patiently before him.

"Take it. You must take it. Our survival depends on someone to lead our forces and you are chosen to do so."

He didn't want to, he didn't believe that he could, but what other choice was there?

Slowly, fearfully, he reached out and touched the Matrix.

Optimus Prime  
It was a decision that he'd have to make sooner or later- he knew this even as he accepted position as Prime. But that didn't mean he wanted to, wished there was some way for him to regulate this duty to someone else.

But no, it wasn't fair to put this responsibility onto anyone else when he wasn't willing to take it himself. It was a decision he had to make eventually, a decision other officers in his command were forced to make, decisions Sentinel Prime had had to make before. But it made it no easier for him to say.

Optimus Prime balled his hands tightly, tone steady and hard and tried so desperately not to hate himself even as he said, "All forces pull back."

"But sir- there's still survivors on the surface-"

"Pull back," he ordered and hoped they could understand that the handful below weren't worth risking scores of others, "we're retreating."

Perceptor  
"Wait, wait- since when did we allow students to skip years?"

"Exceptions can be made if they're warranted."

"We're the Iacon Institute of Higher Learning. We do not simply let a student skip ahead! We're not the Institute of Technology!"

"Believe me, we can make an exception in this case."

"I highly doubt that."

"Here, read this thesis."

"Hmmmm, yes and? It's a very good fourth level thesis, but I don't understand-"

"This is his first year."

"...oh."

"Yes."

"Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt for me to bring this up to the committee..."

Perceptor  
The field of science was possibly the largest field in all of Cybertron and while there were many created for a specific field, just as many were created with intent to let them pick their own field of study.

Perceptor was one such mech and he had difficulty narrowing down his choices. In fact, the closest he was able to come was the field of physical science. Though, honestly, for Perceptor to narrow his field of science would have restricted him greatly. While a good specialist knew more of their given field than he did, Perceptor brought information into all he did that no specialist would've known.

He mixed concepts and theories of astronomy with chemistry, physics and meteorology. He wasn't a genius in any one field, but a master of them all and with the insight and energy he brought into all his fields of study, he found the universe was connected at sub-atomic levels and he worked and he studied and slowly he began to understand.

And as he started understanding he world around him, he wondered how badly Cybertronians stunted their own growth with isolating their fields of science.

Perceptor  
While the rest of his society was so concerned with the universe, with the outward and the large, Perceptor looked lower, smaller, within. While everyone else were obsessed with strength of body, of character and nobility, Perceptor was only concerned with strength of intelligence.

His only worry was not understanding every little thing because it was always the small parts that could gum up the workings of the whole. It was always a minor alteration that could make something work flawlessly or come apart time and again.

So Perceptor let his contemporaries look at the stars, look at their refineries, look at making each other bigger and more powerful. He was content at making the most minuscule adjustments because they always made the greatest change.

Prowl  
He held himself perfectly still, as if he were merely a statue and not a mech. Sentinel Prime wasn't certain he wanted such a lifeless mech as his second. "Prowl," he said with little conversational attempt, "you have an impressive record."

"Thank you, sir."

"It says that you're also very strict."

"I believe proper discipline should maintained by all ranks in every area."

Sentinel Prime wasn't certain how long this mech was going to last before he got annoyed with him. "Your work ethic apparently transcends your duty stations. Most I've spoken to have been impressed with your accomplishments."

"It is merely my duty, sir."

"Prowl," Sentinel's tone was sharp and dropped all pretense of a casual interview, "you are to be my second in command here. I don't want attitude from you or anyone. I expect immediate response from all my officers, executing my orders without hesitation. You are not here to question me, understood?"

"Of course, sir."

"I've had others come into this position expecting to promote their own agenda. This will not be tolerated."

"I would expect not." Prowl answered plainly, looking- for the first time -as if he were truly seeing Sentinel Prime. "I was created to serve the Autobot cause. I will not do anything to jeopardize our leader or our morals."

Ratchet  
_I can do this. I can do this I can do this I can do this. _Ratchet told himself in his own private mantra._ I can do this. It's only a drone, it's not real, it can't die so I really can't screw up that bad. I can do this, I can do this._

He steeled himself, clenching his fists to keep them from trembling as he waited for the 'patient' to be brought in. He didn't know what he'd be facing, but he'd heard rumors from previous years that these evaluations could cover anything from a simple limb reconnection to shattered pumps to- his internal hitched when he heard this -completely overhauling a circulatory system.

Ratchet's patient came in and the protective sheeting was pulled back. Their entire torso was shattered and torn and it looked like their internals were twisted inside out and fake energon was everywhere-

Ratchet staggered over to a wall just in time to completely miss purging in a receptacle.

"Someone get a mop in here!"

Ratchet  
Ratchet looked at his hands and thought about Jumpstart. He thought about his laughter and good-humor and ability to take even the most explosive situation in easy stride.

He thought of the centuries spent between them, of the laughter and nights out drinking and all the times Jumpstart was there whenever Ratchet felt the world caving in. He thought about how Jumpstart was the greatest friend he could ever ask for and of all the things he was willing to do for the engineer if he only asked.

He thought bout Jumpstart's apprentice, his second shadow and he thought about the promise he made long ago.

"Look after her for me, Ratch. Now- just humor me, okay? Just in case- just in case anything happens, look after her. That's the only thing I'll ever ask of you."

"Yeah- say that after I'm done reattaching your leg."

He thought about Jumpstart and how much he didn't want to do this. "Wheeljack..."

Ratchet didn't have to say anything, just held out Jumpstart's vocal indicators- cracked and scorched and Wheeljack wrapped her arms around herself and knew.


	28. Backstory Challenge part 2

Here's the second half of the 24-hour challenge thing. Thanks to everyone that's been keeping up thus far!

Tomorrow: Really? There's been more femme!Wheeljacks? I thought I was the only one, really.

* * *

Title: Backstory Challenge (part 2)  
Fandom: Gen 1 as I see it?  
Rating: PG-13

Red Alert  
It was something the instructors had drilled into them all during security training and Red Alert didn't understand how the others just let it roll out of their processors.

They had to check everything with everything. A cleverly constructed virus could easily bypass normal security algorithms but they wouldn't be able to be overlooked by _all_ the protocols.

But they had to be used. A real hazard, a real test of a security officer's skill wouldn't be caught simply with one check or even three checks. Everything had to be looked over multiple times, checked over every single variable before it could truly be deemed safe.

This was the lesson Red Alert took to spark during his training and he couldn't understand how no one else in his class had. He forced himself to have the patience for this, he refused to let himself be lax for one moment because that one moment was all it took for someone to be hurt for his mistake.

He refused to be responsible for that. Not when he could save lives simply by doing his job.

Sandstorm  
Smokescreen gave a whistle as he entered Tumbler's Down. "You're packing a crowd for so early in the day." It was already half full and he could imagine the gnashing Reload would do when he found out how much business this was pulling away. "Newbie already that popular?"

Flareup's lips curled up along the edges. "News gets around quick- you know that. How many times can you say you've gotten a piece of Praxian bumper? Besides, he's a real cutie."

"So you've met him already? How'd he get stuck all the way out here?"

"He was supposed to be some kind of business negotiator or financier or something like that." She waved a hand, shuffling a deck absently. "There was a creation defect and he wasn't able to perform his function properly so he went up on the auction block, no other business wanted him, word makes it down here, blah blah. Straightaway got him for practically nothing."

"Ouch." The blue mech looked around, trying to find the new faceplate. "So where is he? Is the defect in his processor?"

"He'll be out. There's nothing wrong with his processor at all- he's sharp and charming and he's got some slick hands." Flareup looked over Smokescreen's shoulder, then brought up an arm to beckon someone over. "Hey! Come on over and meet a friend of ours! This is Smokescreen. He works at High Hand a few blocks over, but he's a good guy. Y'know, when he not working for the enemy."

"Nice to meet you!" The newcomer said cheerfully, "I'm Sandstorm."

And Smokescreen could see right off the bat that this one would be trouble. Handsome though he was Sandstorm's primary lure was that he was fresh. Untouched, undamaged and though there was a sharp intelligence shinning through his optics, there was still an overwhelming sense of naivete in him.

Before Smokescreen could do more than just sit there, someone else called Sandstorm away. He left the two with a well-mannered farewell, obviously excited to start his new job. Flareup put her chin against Smokescreen's shoulder component, running the edge of her deck against the inside of a slender panel idly.

"Take a good look." She told him quietly. There was no cheer in her vocalizer- forced or otherwise –just a hint of sadness and regret. "'Cause he'll never be that purely happy again."

Scavenger  
He was looking through the materials set aside for use when a hand batted irritably at him. "Go away, you're not needed here."

Scavenger skittered backwards, cowed at Hook's sharp words and overbearing presence. Though he was being ignored, Scavenger stilled bowed apologetically at the engineer.

"Scavenger," a far less annoyed voice called out, "come here."

He did as he was told, going up to Scrapper and resisting the urge to press against his side. Scavenger was hardly new to working construction, but this was the first time he'd worked with Scrapper's group and so far he'd had Hook snapping at him constantly, Bonecrusher growling angrily at his heels and Long Haul moaning about all the things Scavenger was making him carry. So far the only one that didn't seem to hate him was Scrapper.

"Did you need something?" He asked timidly, not wanting to get on the foremen's bad side.

"Come here." He said again, waving Scavenger closer. When he came into range, Scrapper put a hand on the shovel's arm. "Don't worry so much, you've done nothing wrong."

He shrunk down at that, tail curling inward. "Maybe not to the temps, but your crew doesn't seem to like me."

Scrapper paused, looking around at the other four green and purple mechs. He chuckled. "They just need something to complain about, don't take it personally."

"But-"

"Have they told you you've brought them the wrong item or bad materials?"

"Well, no..."

Scrapper smiled under his mask and patted Scavenger's arm. "They like you."

Scoop  
"What are you doing there?"

Scoop jumped, a line streaking haphazardly across the blueprint.

"Oh dear," Hoist chuckled apologetically, "I didn't meant to startle you- I do apologize."

Scoop laughed in return, deleting the last line. "It's fine, don't worry. Probably got a little too caught up in my work. Grapple's actually out right now, had to go down to a site because of a supply mix-up."

Hoist shook his head. "I suppose that's another foreman he'll be firing soon?"

"Probably." Scoop couldn't help looking a little sad at the idea. "Grapple's complained about him since he was contracted. I doubt he'll last long."

The green mech made a supportive sound, patting Scoop's shoulders. "That's why he has you, you know. He needs someone he can trust to be at those sites. That's why you need to study all you can and work your way up from the bottom like all the others."

Turning back to the blueprint, at the calculations he was double-checking, Scoop blurted out, "I hope I can do what he needs."

"I don't doubt it, Scoop." Hoist said kindly. "I know you'll do nothing but make him proud."

Shockwave  
It was almost disappointingly simple to hack into his mentor's files. Was he seriously not supposed to do so? Was he really expected to not want to understand his mentor's background- the amount of information determined classified even to his high clearance by the Security Force, the almost non-existence of a mech Shockwave knew to be far older than him?

He scrolled through the files and texts, not reading them but capturing their information for perusal at a later time. Shockwave wasn't certain how long it would be until his mentor returned, but his need to know and understand had led him to this and would not let him rest until he found it all.

And then a file caught his attention. And all the files that one led to. All of them based on the teachings and research of his mentor's mentor: Jhiaxus.

Shockwave found himself absorbed, processors hungering to know more, to understand how his mentor was connected to a mech that was lost so long ago he was almost forgotten.

"What are you doing?"

Shockwave turned, almost surprised to have been caught. "I am reading your files." He said simply- no use in denying it now.

The larger mech strode up, snarly. "Why?" He hissed. "I told you it was none of your business!"

"Why did you not tell me you were Jhiaxus's assistant?"

Thunderwing stared at Shockwave long and hard. He reached beyond the younger mech and disconnected him from the terminal. "Because you are too much like him. And that makes you dangerous."

Skydive  
Skydive scoured over the data in Silverbolt's office (he could probably take a share out on it with how often he's found himself at the new commander's desk), trying to figure out the best way to utilize each member of their wing.

The Autobots were hurting for jets and though this new special team was needed it, though to a lesser extent than some of the other special teams that came before, was expected to fail.

Skydive really couldn't blame them- most of the newly formed Aerialbots had a psychological problem of some sort and if Skydive couldn't come up with effective tactics this entire endeavor would be rendered useless.

He studied the data and the vids, looked over records and backgrounds and checked through his impressive collection of air tactics for something- anything they could use.

"It's not use," he moaned to himself, feeling defeat crawling up in his spark, "we can't pull our strengths together because we're all so different. We can't even fly at the same speeds!"

Skydive put his head in his hands and was ready to just give everything up. They couldn't do this. Not with five different models of jets. Fliers weren't like ground troops, different models didn't mean they could fly well together. What made a jet wing so strong was that they were the same. They had the same capabilities and could easily overlap their strengths.

He wondered how the other specialty teams did it. How they could make one member's abilities cover another's weakness. He wondered how he could possibly do that with Air Raid's brashness or Slingshot's limited range or-

...because they didn't focus on what limited them due to weakness, they focused on how to utilize their strengths to overcome obsticles.

Skydive started scrawling furious notes in his datapad. "I," he said aloud, "am an idiot."

Skywarp  
They watched Skywarp struggling to use his new warping capabilities correctly and failing every time. "Face it," Starscream groused, "this ventured has failed." Even with a huge learning curve, the fact that Skywarp still hadn't done a successful jump was just ridiculous.

"The technology is sound," Starscream continued, arms crossed over his cockpit, "it worked well enough on its own. You obviously did something wrong when you installed it."

Hook bristled at the comment. "I did nothing of the sort. The operation was flawless. It's your idiot of a wingmate that doesn't know how to utilize it properly."

"I'm not arguing the 'idiot' part, but the fact is something changed that had a perfectly functioning system-"

"_Theoretically_ perfectly functioning."

"-it functioned and Megatron wants this working-"

Thundercracker decided that was a good time to break into the conversation. "You know, you're probably just going about this all wrong," he said, striding between the two mechs, "we just need to get Warp properly motivated."

Starscream and Hook watched as Thundercracker approached Skywarp, speaking in low tones and pointing towards them a couple times. Skywarp looked up, then at the blue jet, then back and grinned a terrible grin.

Then he disappeared.

Starscream howled as something slapped at his wings. He whirled around, hands fisted, only to find the smell of ozone and a particle build up behind him.

About twenty meters away, Skywarp had laughed himself onto his aft. "Hahahaha! Oh, TC's right! That was great!"

"You're dead!" Starscream shrieked. "Both of you!"

"Megatron needs that warp technology." Hook drawled.

"Fine! Thundercracker, _you're_ dead! Skywarp, you're heavily maimed!"

Slingshot  
It wasn't enough. Dammit, it still wasn't enough! Slingshot strained his engines, forcing them into the red, trying to eke out every bit of power, of speed, of range out of them he could.

His wings shuddered, his engines were overheating but he still couldn't get much faster than mach 1.6. He wasn't fast enough, he wasn't strong enough and he pushed and pushed and prayed he'd be able to overcome his limitations by pure will alone.

His desperation fueled him even as warnings and alarms went off, engines running too hot, fuel too low, strain beginning to crack at his body. Slingshot wouldn't accept it, he couldn't. He refused to be the weak link of his team- he wouldn't allow himself to be the slowest, the weakest. He. Won't. _Have it_!

His team eventually found him at the end of a groove he carved into the ground, rocks and brush tossed up and armor cracking, dented and dirtied. They carried him back home, not angry at him, not frustrated at his single-mindedness. They just wanted Slingshot to stop obsessing over his flaws and realize that- what he was good at, he was better than anyone.

Smokescreen  
"Smokey! Come deal our table!"

"No way, I've got his time!"

"Slag that- he's ours!"

Smokescreen laughed, giving both parties a flirtatious smile. "Now gentlemechs, don't get into a scuffle over me. You know the house rules."

"We paid forty to have him deal for us."

"I paid seventy-three for a cycle in the back."

The three looking to gamble snarled. "Eighty."

The large white mech sneered back. "Eighty-five."

"Ninety."

"Ninety-five."

"A hundred."

Smokescreen just watched both sides attempting to outbid each other for his time and smiled brightly and neutrally. Internally he was counting down the kliks to recharge his energy levels.

"One twenty!" The group said desperately. It was obvious, just from their scuffed and ragged forms they rarely had the credits to gamble at the High Hand, let alone pay for Smokescreen to personally deal.

The other mech stood proudly, flawless armor gleaming in the subdued light. "One fifty."

Engines roared and grumbled, fists and denta clenched, but they couldn't do anything. Not without getting beaten and banned from the den. One of them muttered darkly about 'overpaid Autobot officers' but looked jealously away as an arm wrapped around the dealer's slender waist.

"You'll be worth ever credit." It wasn't a request.

Smokescreen gave a long, seductive smile, hands trailing lightly on the red insignia on white chestplate. "I always am." He couldn't wait for his workshift to be over.

Soundwave  
Despite his size, most never noticed he was there. He was just so silent and still, his energy signature and electrical field pulled in tight and barely a blip to anyone's sensors.

It made him perfect for being Senator Ratbat's liaison to the world he couldn't risk being associated with. For all but a meager amount of information, he didn't exist. He moved through life and the world like a ghost, making connections and finding out information and secrets and leaving chills behind.

He watched the universe go on around the tightly controlled and carefully constructed one that contained only himself and his ambitions. He worked for Ratbat no more than he worked for Swindle or the Constructicons. He merely passed information on to whoever could pay with credits or what he wanted to know.

In his universe he was untouched and utterly alone. He sat, invisible, undisturbed, and listened to everything and knew he could find ways to bend everyone to his wants.

Springer  
"Well, well. Look who finally got the boot."

Springer turned on his seat, surprised to have anyone addressing him. Even more surprised to find who. "TC! Well whaddya know? Pull up a seat- I haven't seen you since training!"

Thundercracker made himself comfortable at Springer's elbow. Another jet- black and evidently unhappy -sat on Thundercracker's other side. "Heard about your dismissal from Wingspan."

"You still in contact with him?"

"Off and on."

"Hn, not surprised to hear he's got tabs on everyone, though." Springer grinned, nudging at the blue jet. "You're looking pretty good. Guess going mercenary's done better for you than being an officer, huh?"

Thundercracker couldn't help but grin in return which caused the second jet's unhappy look to turn into a frown. "Can't survive out here while keeping a low profile, but at least I don't have regs and command venting down my chassis. It's surprisingly good to see you again," he added, leaning a wing against Springer's back.

A low whine of engines at Thundercracker's side caught his attention. "Oh yeah- Springer, this is my partner Skywarp. Warp, this is an old buddy of mine from the academy."

"Nice to meet you."

Skywarp's reply was to openly scowl.

Still as unruffled as ever, Springer smoothly transitioned to the time-old conversation of 'catching up' even as he pinged Thundercracker on a tightlink. :_I don't think your buddy likes me much._:

:_Jet mentality._:

:_You never seemed to mind me before._: Springer moved in closer, pressing shoulder to shoulder with Thundercracker and watched Skywarp's expression darken.

:_Meh. You amuse me._:

:_You do realize this means I have to mess with him._: Outwardly he said something that made Thundercracker almost choke on his energon laughing. Skywarp was not amused.

:_It'll make for some good entertainment._:

Starscream  
"My Lord Megatron- I... I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"That's enough, Starscream." The silver mech growled, stemming the energon flow his internal repairs had yet to cinch off. "You've done more than enough for one day."

Starscream shrank back, more afraid of the sharp growls than the shouting and berating Megatron had given him and the rest of the Decepticons earlier. His hands clenched at his sides, flexing, and Starscream couldn't at all blame him for his anger.

They'd failed. All of them. And Starscream had allowed Megatron to have gotten seriously injured. "Sir," he said softly, "it won't happen again. I swear it."

"No." He snapped. "It won't. I have no more need for you as my guard, Starscream."

He might as well have stabbed the jet in the spark. "But... but Lord Megatron-"

"I will give you a new assignment at a later date, Starscream. Now leave."

He bowed his head, vocalizer tight. "Yes, Lord Megatron." As he left, doors mocked him as they slide between him and his leader and steps echoed judgmentally through the empty hall. Starscream vowed he'd never fail again.

Superion  
He was there- somewhere there -in a place he didn't understand. He had thoughts but they weren't all his thoughts and it was like he was thinking through someone else. He was there, but not, alive, but broken, little pieces that faded and resonated with distance. He was there but he was a fragment within someone else and he didn't know where he existed or when he began to exist. He was alive but passive, conscious but dormant. He was there but he was tucked away, his freedom barred at the whim of others and he railed in a voice no one could hear that he wanted out.

Thundercracker  
He stood before the court martial, head held high and jaw squared, outright ignoring the officers that were there to judge him.

"Thundercracker," the presiding officer all but snapped, "do you not understand the severity of the charges leveled against you?"

"I do." His words were as calm as if he were saying the time of day.

"Your actions instigated a riot."

"Your actions started it. I didn't ask them to riot when your guards came at me with an inhibitor claw."

"They were wings under your command."

"I didn't tell them to interfere." He glared at the presiding officer, scowling deeply. "Maybe that should tell you something."

"The only thing this tells me is you have no remorse for your actions."

Thundercracker let a snort rip through his vents, but said nothing.

The other officers sneered and grumbled at his arrogance. Thundercracker paid them no heed. They were all ground-pounders anyway.

"For your crimes you will serve two meta cycles of imprisonment. Upon release, you will be stripped of all rank and privilege and dismissed from the Autobots." He glared down at the jet. "Do you have anything to say, Thundercracker?"

He glared right back, lips twisted in a growl. "Do I get these optic-sore insignias taken off now, or do I have to be disgusted at them for two meta cycles?"

Tracks  
Just because he was created on one of the lowest levels of Iacon didn't mean he had to accept it. He'd sneak closer to the higher levels to watch as the nobles went about their day. He watched and dreamed and obsessed.

The first thing to change was his mannerisms and attitude. His tone, his speech patterns and vocabulary twisted. He became haughty, condescending and crude to the 'lower class' despite being one of them.

Then he began to change his body: brighter colors, a sleeker chassis, more exotic features until soon his original body had been entirely reformatted.

He left the job he was created for before his contract was up, snuck his way to one of the upper levels- still too low to be a part of the nobility he so admired but now almost respectable.

New look, new name, new life- he could almost pretend he'd always been what he wanted to be.

Tracks  
Their derisive laughter echoed in his processors.

_You? Do you really think that you could ever be accepted into high society?_

With that tacky paint job and shoddy body construction?

You're nothing but a pretender. You can try to be one of us all you want, but all you'll ever be is a loser trying to chase the shadows of your betters.  
  
_Leave. Your boorish attitude and abhorrent looks are bring down our property values._

Tracks had never been so insulted, so humiliated in his life. He locked himself away in the small workroom in the back of the unassuming bodyshop he managed to weasel a job from. Furiously he scribble new designs, scratching that anger and pain into each line.

He'd show them. He wasn't as good as any Tower mech- he was better. And he'd prove it to them all, one way or another.

Trailbreaker  
If he was asked, Trailbreaker would've said he believed their war was destroying their planet. Of course, no one would've listened to him because he was just a defensive strategist. He took up more supplies than most just for his forcefield generator and was terribly energy inefficient. What did he know about trying to protect their planet?

He watched out the window of the shuttle as what was left of the black rock once known as Cybertron faded into the distance. He watched it disappear and he thought to himself he should've tried harder in some way- in _every_ way -to have saved it.

Ultra Magnus  
"I'm sorry, my friend. I can't continue to do this."

Optimus Prime tilted his head slightly. "What do you mean?"

Unable to look at Prime's calm, steady gaze, Ultra Magnus looked away, hands twisting together and frown deeply etched onto his lips. "This. This war, all this fighting- I can't do this anymore."

"I don't understand. You've always been such a staunch supporter of the Autobot cause."

"I have and I am, but- Optimus," Ultra Magnus's optics shown brightly, "we're ignoring a separate problem."

"What problem is that?"

"War crimes. We've been fighting this war for far too long and so many on both sides are getting away with crimes and not all of them are on the battlefield. Not all of them are even against our own kind." He waved a hand towards the large windows facing the stars. "While we're so obsessed with fighting each other, we're letting our own kind slip between the cracks to commit atrocities and give our own murderous technology to others."

Optimus Prime looked out the window, then back at Ultra Magnus. "What do you suggest?" He asked calmly, as if he already knew what the answer would be.

"Someone needs to police our own. Not in Autobot law or Cybertronian law. They need to be arrested according to interstellar law."

"The Tyrest Accord."

"Yes."

"And you will be the one to uphold it, be the offenders Autobot or Decepticon."

Ultra Magnus nodded. "It will apprehend any Cybertronian that breaks it, Optimus. Even if it's you."

Prime's optics narrowed in a smile, even as he knew Ultra Magnus wouldn't hesitate to arrest him if he ever crossed that line. "I understand."

Wheeljack  
"Jack, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes, Ratchet, I do."

"But it's-"

"Dangerous. I know. You've said that."

Ratchet frowned harshly, anger not at all covering up his worry. So Wheeljack spun around in her seat and put her hands on his arm. "Really, Ratchet. I know it's dangerous and I know so many things can go wrong but that's why Perceptor and Brainstorm and everyone has checked all the calculations dozens of times each and that's why you and a medical team are here." She smiled under her mask, thankful for his concern.

"This isn't just for me, Ratchet. If this transfer goes over correctly, think how many femmes we can save from this slaughter. Putting us in a larger, stronger body is going give us all a fighting chance."

Ratchet glared at the empty space between them, unwilling to put Wheeljack in this kind of danger, but wanting to protect her any way that he could.

"This better work," he told the engineer, "or I'm going to be slotting torqued at you."

She beamed up at him, giving his arm a grateful squeeze. "Wouldn't want that, would I?"

Wheeljack  
"...Jack?"

He turned at the hesitant sound of his name and was just as surprised to see who was by him. "Topspin! Look at you, all beefed up!" Wheeljack strode up, quick and eager. It felt odd being able to put his hands on Topspin's shoulders without having to stretch upwards. It wasn't nearly as drastic a change on the blue and white, but he was far larger and more heavily armed than the last time Wheeljack saw him. "You're all business now, huh?"

"Me? Lookit you!" Topspin said weakly, trying to get over the shock. "You're... you..."

Wheeljack's vocal indicators flashed with a low chuckle. "Surprising, huh?" He turned, showing off his mech body. "Got transferred into a larger body. I helped pioneer the practice. Still has some kinks in it, but I'm in great shape myself."

"Huh. How 'bout that."

The two stood, looking at each other in an uncomfortable silence. Wheeljack felt something deep inside plunge, twisted and cold. "Don't like it, huh?"

"No, no!" Topspin said quickly. "It's just..." his hand traced over the roof, remembering where there was once a windshield, once slender curves and delicate angles and he missed them, yeah but, "it's better for you in a stronger body." He said eventually.

"But you don't like it."

A hand grabbed at his and Topspin gave a soft, honest smile. "It keeps you safe. That's more than enough reason for me to accept it."

Xantium  
Xantium rarely looked forward to crew shifts. Not because she didn't like her crews (she didn't mind them, for the most part) they just rarely made an impression on her. To be honest, Xantium was bored out of her immense number of processors. If it wasn't for the occasional attempted raid on her, going through space anomalies or catching updates from other sentient ships, there was very little to catch her interest.

So when, not a deca cycle after getting this new crew, someone was screaming irately in her halls, unable to do more than drag themselves around because someone had reversed and locked the polarity of their mag plates, Xantium couldn't help but be curious of the incident.

And when a little black jet pressed against her walls with a wide grin and whispered, "Don't tell anyone," Xantium knew this crew was going to be entertaining.

Prowl and Springer  
He was tired, hurting, angry and had just been humiliated for the first time in training and the one that had finally destroyed his flawless record was acting like this was a game! Like none of this mattered!

"If this were a live battle," Prowl snapped because he couldn't seem to get through to the triplechanger any other way, all his arguments smacked down as if they were unimportant, "that hashed tactic would've gotten you killed!"

Springer's optics narrowed. "The way I see it- if this were a real battle you'd have a round in your cortext right now. So your team was decimated- so the frag what? This is a simulated battle- lose every single exercise from here on out and all that matters is what you learn from them." A gray finger pressed against Prowl's hood. "Losing lives here means nothing because none of this is real. Let someone outthink you in an actual battlefield and you'll be lucky if you survive to figure out what it was you didn't do. I'm not afraid of losing battles here and I'm not afraid of finding out what I mistakes I've made. A real leader doesn't go trying to find excuses for what went wrong- they find the problem, fix it and make sure it doesn't happen again. If you're more worried about your perfect record then whoever is under your command," Springer snarled, "transfer to a platoon of fledglings."

They stood, glowering at each other until Prowl dropped his gaze, glaring instead at Springer's orange chestplate. In turn, Springer moved away and gestured for the groups to assemble. "Transform and head back to the RV." Prowl didn't move, just stood furious- with his failure, with Springer and with himself. "…hey-"

"I heard." He said shortly, transforming and following the rest of the column.

Twins  
"This information is imperative. We must know."

"I'm exercising my right to be silent, so frag off."

"Look, Sunstreaker-"

"Don't you Autobots have rules against keeping someone here wrongfully? I want a lawyer."

"You are being held for suspicion, we have not broken any laws by keeping you here."

"Suspicion of what?"

"For participating in illegal underground death matches."

"Do you have any proof?"

"...no."

"Then you can't keep me here and I want out. Now."

"We need information-"

"You need to let me go before I start pressing charges!"

"Your brother-"

An icy glare killed that sentence quick. "What about my brother." Came the murderous demand.

To their credit, the Autobot didn't exactly quiver. Much. "Your brother has a number of outstanding tickets and fines compiled against him as well as evidence of selling stolen items." The quivering increased in direct relation to the utter death in Sunstreaker's glare. "All we need is a time and location of the next match and we will be willing to drop all charges against him. If not, a warrant for his arrest will be put into place."

"This," Sunstreaker growled, "is a dangerous game you're playing with me, Autobot."

"It is," they agreed, "but we've run out of options. We will have Megatron and his crew captured in any way we can. Both you and your brother will be granted immunity for your participation in these events-"

"Sideswipe has never been to one of these fights and I've never participated."

"You will be granted immunity and all previous outstanding records on your brother will be wiped clean. All we need is an in. No one will know who it was that leaked this information."

Sunstreaker sat and he glared and he thought about how much he hated these hypocritical Autobots.

Hot Rod/Springer/Arcee  
Hot Rod bounced on the front of his peds, suddenly far more nervous now than he'd ever been in similar situations before. He wasn't certain what exactly changed (well, he kind of knew, but he didn't really understand why) and he didn't really know how to feel about this new change. He didn't think he liked it.

A small hand hooked around his arm, pulling at him until Arcee was pressed against his arm. "Calm down," she said, even as it was obvious she was just as anxious, "they'll be docking soon."

He tried. He really did. But the only thing he could think of was the communique that said that the Wreckers were returning from a mission with a couple of them severely injured. The lack of detail had his processors coming up with so many scenarios, each worse than the other.

"How can you deal with this?" Hot Rod blurted out. If being in love with Springer meant having to fear his death every time he went out, Hot Rod didn't know how long he'd last- didn't know how Arcee managed for so long on her own.

She hugged tightly at his arm. Hot Rod was suddenly glad he was there, feeling this, so she wouldn't be alone. "Usually by hating myself for hoping it was one of the others. Then I beat him for worrying me if he isn't hurt."

"And if he is?"

Her fingers tightened so hard she almost left grooves and the smile on her lips was almost believable. "Then I wait until he's better and beat him for being so reckless."

Hot Rod pulled his arm from Arcee's and wrapped it around her shoulders as the Wreckers' shuttle came in. "At least I have something to look forward to." He said, smile just as believably false.


	29. False Advertisement

Oh how I sometimes wish I went to a regular college where I wasn't expected to spend hours on one homework assignment... Obviously my creativity has gone pretty much kaput due to school pressure so this is the last of the pre-made drabbles meaning I'll be posting drabbles here at the same time I'll be updating my lj. I still do plan on doing the monthly challenge, though, so keep an eye out for that. It'll probably go up either later tonight or sometime Saturday.

JML: You know, I never really gave Tracks much thought at all, but for the backstory thing? It's... really fitting, I think.

Tomorrow: If you could find it again, I'd be much appreciative. Even if the story itself isn't great, it's still interesting to see other people's takes on things, no? My Smokescreen (as well as others) were what are called 'hosts'. Their main job is just to be the dealers or hosts in gambling dens and, for the right price, whatever else the patron would like them to do. Those kinds of dens were mainly in the slums and- though they were illegal -it was considered a selling point to have an Autobot officer asking for a specific host. It was the sort of job the upper/middle class refused to acknowledge, but for those that lived there, it was merely what they did to live.

Thanks to all for reading and reviewing!

* * *

Title: False Advertisement  
Fandom: Movie 'verse  
Rating: G  
Characters: Sam, Bumblebee, Bluestreak and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker in the background  
Summary: You'd think they'd know better by now. If you don't get it, btw, just look up Trunk Monkey on youtube.

Sam wasn't a big fan of dance music, but Bumblebee liked blaring it when he wanted to do a little speeding and after so many years under his father's rule of 'driver picks the music', he didn't complain. He did, however, pat the dash to indicate he wanted to talk without yelling.

"You know who landed?" The boy asked. He was a bit bummed that the newest of the Autobots had come while he was visiting family for the week. Sam would bet Bumblebee was, too.

"Two of them I'm not too familiar with," admitted the radio, "but one of them- Bluestreak –is a good friend of mine. We're among the youngest of the survivors so we tend to stick together when we can."

"Heh, cool." Sam could dig that. Maybe this Bluestreak would be more apt (and less trouble) to pal around with than some (the twins).

As the two came up on the perimeter of the Autobot's new base- some old, abandoned military facility –Bumblebee transmitted his access code, allowing them uncontested entrance and announcing his return. His radio came on briefly with Cybertronian chatter- check ins, updates, status, general howryas. Sam leaned forward, making out a couple figures waiting at the front of a hangar. He could spot Optimus Prime's towering frame (he stayed just long enough to ensure the scout's safe return), the complimenting figures of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe and a third that- if it weren't for the actual _colors_ on him –Sam nearly mistook for Prowl.

Bumblebee coasted to a stop before the three of them, blasting a quick, _"before I melt like snow/I say hello/how do you do"_. Sam slid out of the driver's seat, practice and familiarity had him ducking under the Camaro's transformation. Before he could introduce himself, the new mech pointed at him and twittered something in not-human. Over his head, Bumblebee froze while the twins rattled in what was apparently the Cybertronian equivalent of laughter.

Sam hated when they- or anyone –didn't speak English. Because he _knew_ they were talking about him. "What's going on?"

"I didn't know we were allowed Trunk Monkeys!"

The boy boggled. "Whadda wha?" By the newcomer's shoulder, Sideswipe was curling in on himself in chortling laughter while Sunstreaker shook his head.

"Bluestreak," Bumblebee said in that universal 'I'm being really patient as I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding but you will tell me _now_' kind of way, "what are you talking about?"

"You're Trunk Monkey! Though he seems a lot bigger and less hairy than the vid depicts them. How come you and Ironhide are the only ones with them? Well, actually Ironhide has two but that's only sometimes and I know he's bigger but I wouldn't think he'd have a Trunk Monkey even if we're allowed them." Bluestreak prattled thoughtfully. "Is Arcee's a Trunk Monkey? She doesn't really have a trunk, so would that make her a Seat Monkey? Hers has more hair than yours and _definitely_ more hair than Ironhide's- especially the darker one that doesn't always come by-"

"Blue," Bumblebee interjected, having to be a little sharp to be heard of the twins' cackling. "Where did you find out about this… Trunk Monkey thing?"

"That's our cue to leave." Sunstreaker snerked, pulling his brother away.

Sideswipe's words faded out behind them, "Oh, I forgot how much fun an impressionable mech like Bluestreak was!"

"I'm going to go have a word with those two," Bumblebee told them, "I'll be back in a bit. Bluestreak, this is Sam. My not-Trunk Monkey. Why don't you two talk until I return?" He stalked resolutely after the other two mechs.

Bluestreak looked down at Sam. Sam looked up at him. Bluestreak squatted. "Not-Trunk Monkey?"

"Yeah, so I'm pretty certain I'm right," Sam told Bluestreak patiently, "by saying everything those two told you about this planet is a lie."


	30. 1 Sentence Challenge III

This month's 24-hour challenge, though a much easier 1-sentence challenge than the previous one, didn't get as many TF prompts for various reasons. Mainly because I didn't advertise as many places because I wouldn't have been able to devote a lot of time as it was going on and because part of the challenge was it could only be one prompt per series. So this is going to be short but there's probably a couple good ones in here.

* * *

Title: 1 Sentence Challenge  
Fandom: Transformers G1 and on TFA  
Rating: PG-13 to be safe

**TFA Prowl + shock**

Bumblebee shrunk back as Prowl wrenched the stingers from his hands and snapped, "You are never standing behind me again!"

**Starscream + egg** (referencing the song 'happy happy joy joy' because that was the first thing i could think of)

Starscream had come to expect nothing but utter weirdness from Skywarp and had tuned out the processor-freezing song (if Thundercracker's horrifically stupified expression was anything to go off of) until, "I'll teach your grandmother to suck eggs? What is WRONG with humans??"

**Prowl + aroused**

Jazz couldn't stop the cackle as he watched the twins cowering against the far wall as Prowl's door slammed shut (as only few manage to do with automatic doors) over the shocked stillness of the hall, "And now you know about Prime's order to not arouse Prowl from recharge prematurely outside of a Decepticon attack."

**Sandstorm + affair**

The look on Springer's face as he checked the state (and sudden _abundance_) of the Wreckers' finances not a meta-cycle since Sandstorm took over made the orange triplechanger grin as he said, "You really did need someone to get your affairs in order."

**Any Wrecker + envy**

It wasn't hard to understand Wreckers, really- if someone had something another wanted, why ask when they could pounce and wrestle that thing away? What they didn't get was why everyone else thought those scuffles were serious.

**Seekers + sky**

It was a torture no merciful Autobot could abide by, one even a few of the more hardened and calloused ones shuddered at the remembrance of the echos of a prisoner's hysterical, crazed, pained screams of, "_GIVE. ME. SKY._"

**Twins + wet**

If one kept track, they'd have been surprised (or not, if they thought about it) that the twins put in the most money by far toward high school fundraisers as neither ever passed up a student car wash (what could they say- they just liked being pampered).

**Fireflight + failure**

Sandstorm didn't realize when he started telling the red jet he wasn't any sort of failure and joined the other Aerialbots in wanting to say it until every time he'd been verbally broken was erased from Fireflight's memory.

**Air Raid + capture**

With Fireflight on his side, Air Raid was almost disappointed with how easy it was to capture the Wrecker (what happened afterward always made up for it, of course).

**Topspin, femme!Wheeljack + aroused**

Her laughter trilled deliciously around his wiring as they took hairpin turns, nose to tail, at speeds that would've boggled anyone else. Topspin nearly stalled when her teasing, silky voice wrapped around him as she shot ahead, "You want me, come and get me."


	31. The Dangers of Complacency

A little something for a friend of mine because she's been sick and hasn't been having the best of returns to work. So, to help ease her day I allowed her a prompt and this is what came out:

* * *

Title: The Dangers of Complacency  
Fandom: Transformers  
Rating: G  
Characters: Prowl with Wheeljack, Megatron and Optimus Prime with various cameos  
Summary: There's a reason Prowl is the top Autobot strategist.

Prowl looked at the Decepticons on the next ridge and felt his doorwings flex in irritation. Asides from being outnumbered 3-to-1, the other Autobots around the tactician were hardly frontline fighters. "Alright," he called out, mind racing with countless plans and percentiles of success, "should we consider your call to surrender, what are the terms?"

"We've been observing you Autobots," Megatron called back smugly. His fusion cannon- as well as those of his troops –aimed at Prowl and the three others behind him. "We want that weapon you've been working on."

Prowl didn't know how they knew about the weapon- how long have they been watched and how had they not noticed? He'd have to bring that up with Red Alert (provided they all survived long enough). He calculated and re-calculated and could come up with only one plan that had the best odds of survivability.

"Wheeljack," he said lowly, "give them the targeting marker."

The engineer whipped his head at Prowl. "What? But Prowl-"

"Do it, Wheeljack."

"It hasn't even been _tested_-"

"Wheeljack," he snapped, "do not question, just do it!"

The Decepticons couldn't help snickering and Wheeljack found himself stepping back from the smaller mech, a little cowed. "A-Alright…" He walked up to the edge of the ridge, an elongated, palm-sized controller in his hand. Wheeljack reared an arm back and tossed it at the Decepticons with all the precision of a human quarterback.

Megatron lifted his left hand to catch-

"Oh great and powerful Megatron," Starscream sneered, snagging the thing from the air, "I believe I shall have the honor."

Grapple moved up behind Prowl and Wheeljack, Perceptor close at his back. "This isn't going to end well."

"If we're lucky." Prowl drawled back.

"Starscream…" Megatron growled, making a grab for the device but the seeker leapt away, putting a couple bodies between the two of them (those bodies were not happy with their new position).

Starscream brandished the thing with great flourish, pointing it at the four Autobots. "Now!" He cried dramatically. "Meet the Unmaker!" And he activated the device.

Nothing happened.

Nothing continued to happen.

"Hey, congrats there Starscream," Skywarp dryly said, "you broke it already."

"Shut up, I broke nothing!" The jet tried the time-honored tradition of shaking and hitting the thing into submission.

On the other ridge, Prowl quietly counted down, "…three… two… cover!" The four Autobots hit the dirt, covering their heads and keeping all appendages low. Then the harsh weight of air pressure hit the Decepticons like a vacuum.

The only thing anyone could say as a missile sped right at them was, "Oh fr-"

* * *

Optimus Prime looked over the report with a carefully blank expression. "So this targeting marker you gave the Decepticons was _specifically_ designed to be attached to a target in order to direct a thermobaric missile strike, correct?"

"That is correct. It was not a full on hit," Prowl stated calmly, "but the Decepticons suffered heavy casualties."

"I see."

The two officers stayed silent for a moment. Then Optimus Prime folded his hands together. "Have I told you recently how glad I am that you're on our side?"

Prowl's doorwings twitched in amusement. "I've long considered it to be understood."

"Regardless," the leader said honestly, "I'm very glad you're on our side."

He couldn't stop the smile spreading on his lips. "Thank you, sir."


	32. Teaser Challenge

This month's challenge was a little different, but it was fun to do. Requesters gave me a summary or premise for a story and I wrote a teaser for it. If anyone finds a teaser they'd like to expand on you're free to use it so long as you credit me for the section you used and I get linked to your story :3

JML: A thermobaric missile strike IS the equivalent of a thermobaric missile strike XD  
To all: Thank you for the reviews, I very much appreciate them! And I'm very happy to hear how many enjoy my characterizations (hearts)

* * *

Title: Teaser Challenge  
Fandom: Transformers G1, TFA, 2K7/xover  
Rating: PG

_TFA Prowl and the Twins. They are sent out on a mission together. Murphy's Law intervenes._

Of course he'd be sent out on a mission with the two bots he didn't ever want to be alone with. Of course they spent the entire time traveling making veiled comments and finding ways to be as close to Prowl as possible. So of course Prowl gave the twins the slip the first moment he could and now that he had Lugnut with a foot on his back and Blitzwing with a weapon to his head, of course Prowl was praying Sideswipe and Sunstreaker would hurry up and find him already.

_

* * *

  
G1 or 2K7-verse. Perceptor and Prowl meeting Yuuko Ichihara from CLAMP's "xxxHOLiC" by coincidence. No, not by coincidence, because it was hitsuzen, or inevitability (for lack of better translation), that they'd meet. Bonus on Watanuki freaking out on the whole "giant transforming robot aliens" thing._

Watanuki peered around the sliding door, unable to fathom how Yuuko could possibly be as blase and unyielding as she always was before two... well, beings that were as large as her house.

"As I said," she told them, "this is a house of wishes. I can grant your wish for an equivalent price. The more precious the wish, the more precious the thing you must give up. The wish for this war to end is far too great. It would require many wishes and many sacrifices on both sides."

The larger of the two seemed to be growing annoyed by Yuuko, the panels on his back twitching slightly. "And as I said, we wish nothing from you but directions. Our being here at all was accidental."

She smiled the indulgent, patient smile she gave to so many. "There is no such thing as accident or coincidence in this universe and all universes. Everything happens for a reason, all meetings are so the future can be built and formed. There is a wish you desperately seek inside of you and if you ask I can help you fulfill it."

The smaller metal being touched at first one's back. "Prowl, I do not believe-" a raised hand cut him off.

"And this price?" The one called Prowl asked in careful measurement.

Yuuko's smile grew. "Something as equally important as your wish is. Your control."

_

* * *

  
Prowl and Springer are stuck working together, in very close quarters, in some degree of isolation from everyone else, on something very, very, very important---such that they have to suppress their animosities for awhile. And get to talking; maybe one of them decides to try to work through the dislike they've long held for each other. But anyway, they begin to understand each other a bit more, and learn to, if not become close friends, at least develop a faint appreciation for each other that runs alongside the annoyances and dulls them a bit.  
_  
"Look, do you hate me or something? Because I'm not a fan of you I'll admit- but it's not like I hate the ground you walk on or anything."

"What?"

"I'm just saying. You're hardly the most congenial of 'bots but you really seem to not like dealing with me."

"Do we really need to be having this conversation right now?"

"We're wedged in pretty tight- can't go up and thank Primus we can't go down any further. Or did you already have plans for the next, oh... several cycles?"

"....sometimes I am so very tempted to hate you."

_

* * *

  
Optimus is injured so Warpath is moving boulders to get out of a building that they were in hiding in, protecting themselves from the enemy fire. Warpath is hurt to but he ignores his injury.  
_  
Optimus Prime had to wonder about the strength of the minibots. Despite their shorter stature, each of them seemed to be as strong- some perhaps stronger -than many of the full-sized 'bots in their ranks. He lay, half reclined against a mining cart with a hand deep into his side to staunch a wound too large for his internal repairs to handle. Warpath, despite his own injuries, was pulling tirelessly at the boulders that had collapsed at the entrance of the mine.

"Don't worry, Prime," Warpath told him cheerily between grunts of strain as he'd been saying since the sound of blaster fire had stopped, since the two had gotten trapped within. "We'll be okay. I'll get you outta here in no time and back to base. You're good so long's I'm here."

He pulled a boulder down and sunlight spilled in. So did blaster fire that nearly took off Warpath's head. The tank let out a yelp, falling over and scuttling backwards to put himself between the opening and his leader.

"Okay," he said a little weakly, helmet smoking lightly where he'd been skimmed by the shot, "you're good so long's those Decepticreeps stay out there..."

_

* * *

  
Whirl and Blades are captured by the Decepticons._

Blades wouldn't admit he worried to any degree. Especially not about his self-imposed rival but the Protectobot hadn't heard a thing about Whirl since their captors had pulled him out of the cell several cycles ago. He wasn't worried, he convinced himself, he was just bored and even that stuck-up Wrecker was better to yell at then the corner.

The door at the end of the hall slid open and Blades got into a crouch, ready to move at any moment despite being chained to the wall. Three Decepticons approached the door and between two of them Whirl was more dragged than walked. They opened the cell opposite Blades and shackled the once proudly white Wrecker with heavy chains at the elbows.

It was then Blades realized, with mounting horror, Whirl's arms ended at the wrist. They'd taken his _rotary assembly..._

The Protectobot bristled, chest puffed and lining up blistering insults to spit out-

That quickly died off when the Decepticons opened his cell and came at him with bored contempt.

_

* * *

  
Megatron rebuilds the Robo-Smasher and sets it loose on Earth Autobots._

Scrapper looked down at the plans before him, drawn by his own hand but one he could barely remember constructing. He sat and looked at the plans- through them and felt something deep inside, buried under everything, railing at Megatron's idea. It was like a part of him thought he should be feeling differently about this, that he shouldn't want to do this.

The door to his office opened, Hook entering with his customary annoyance at being pulled away from his own duties even as he took pleasure in reviewing Scrapper's plans. "Well?" He demanded shortly. Scrapper said nothing, merely pushed the drafting tablet towards his second. The plans for the improved Robo-Smasher shone brightly on its surface.

_

* * *

  
Slingshot's got his wings shot off and is stranded on a mountain that's about to be blown up. The only one close enough to save him is Whirl._

Slingshot glared distrustingly at the cable dangling before him.

"Look," Whirl irritated voice came on the comm, "either you come with me now or you do it later in pieces. I'm the only right now with the capabilities to help you so take the cable before those explosives go off."

He dithered and part of him knew he shouldn't be. Whirl wasn't Blades, for Primus sake- he wouldn't rub this in Slingshot's faceplates. Supposedly.

Slingshot snapped his hands around the cable and gritted out, "Go!" before he thought himself out of it. His arms strained as the ground dropped away from his peds and the rocky gorges passed by.

The Aerialbot's head snapped to the right just as Whirl cursed. "Seekers incoming," the helo announced dryly, "you better be as good a shot as you claim."

Wrapping the cable around his hand and cinching it between his peds, Slingshot brought his rifle up as best he could, "Try not to ruin my shot."

_

* * *

  
Bored Wildrider and Drag Strip get the idea to bait Inferno and Ironhide out on patrol._

The first one came by so fast the force rocked them on their suspensions, the second so close the crackle of the forcefield ripped over their sides.

"What the-"

"It's those damned Stunticons!"

Drag Strip and Wildrider spun a 180 over the road, tires kicking up smoke and burning marks over the asphalt and Wildrider cracked his rear fender against the guardrail, the terrible screeching noise crawling over audio receptors.

"Hey, lead-bottoms!" The racer taunted, shaking his spoiler at the Autobots. "You gonna try and catch us or what?"

"Those two couldn't catch a dump truck!" his gestaltmate cackled.

"Well, Ironhide," Inferno growled, already hunkered low on his wheels and ready to bolt forward, "what's the call?"

"There's no way the two of us are gonna catch 'em," the van muttered darkly, already opening a comm channel, "I'm callin' in backup."

"Aw, guess they don't wanna play with us, Ride."

The gray Ferrari squealed his tires on the pavement, kicking up more smoke in annoyance. "Slagging Autobots- can't fight, can't drive, what the hell's the point?"

"C'mon," Drag Strip swung around, purposefully crunching a tire against Wildrider's fender to get his attention, "if they're just gonna sit around, we'll get our own fun. Who knows, maybe they'll catch up when the hit town, right?"

Wildrider cackled high and cruel while the two Autobots' internals went cold. "Heehee, yeah! That'll be a good way to kill some time!"

"Apt choice of words, buddy."

"Ironhide-"

Ironhide's tires were already squealing. "Slag backup!"

_

* * *

  
Much to Topspin's chagrin, Ratchet is very much a shotgun daddy when it comes to Wheeljack, especially when it pertains to certain activities. Unfortunately, he didn't expect Ratchet to ambush him there..._

The practical application tests never bothered Topspin, he was one of the few students that actually liked having one of the doctors standing next to them and overseeing how the student operated on a faux patient. No, the nervousness that was threatening to tremble his joints wasn't from exam but because the medical director was the one that was overseeing him.

Topspin tried not to look at Ratchet's measuring glare, tried not to imagine Ratchet knew how many times Topspin had snuck out of the student's wing to see Wheeljack and he desperately tried to forget the scuffed paint and dirt mars he could still feel on his chassis despite washing up before the test.

Despite his resolution to not meet the director's gaze, Topspin flickered a look at the older mech. He narrowed his optics and thinned the line of his mouth in a very _We're going to have a little chat_ way.

The body was wheeled in between them.

_

* * *

  
Somehow, Topspin survived the exam and avoided the little chat with Ratchet. Well, Ratchet hears through the grapevine about Topspin's visits to Wheeljack and certain "activities" that take place (which is unknown if it is true or not) and goes hunting for Topspin. Wheeljack makes a cameo._

Students and instructors alike jumped out of the way as Topspin pounded down the hall panting 'ohslagohslagohslag' as he went full tilt.

"Yo, Spin- what're you-"

"Not now, trying not to die!"

"What?"

"Topspin's weird, what do you expect?"

And then came the bellowing. "WHERE IS THAT HALF-CLOCKED SLAG-SUCKING GLITCH- GET BACK HERE!" The very walls of the Institute seem to shudder under the stomping of the medical director.

Clinging to his back, trying to slow him down any way she could, Wheeljack was simultaneously trying to convince Ratchet he was being stupidly unreasonable and shouting at Topspin to run for his life.

"........."

"Like I said, _really_ weird."

_

* * *

  
Powerglide gets overenergized and starts mouthing off about his exploits with Fireflight while the Aerialbots are off on a mission, leaving Sandstorm to take care of the jet._

Powerglide- if you asked just about anyone that wasn't him -had this unfortunate habit of getting louder the more overenergized he got. Not only did he get louder, he also didn't seem to have any idea of what he was saying, just picked any topic that seemed like a good one at that moment.

The current topic- as he had briefly encountered the Aerialbots on their way to a mission earlier -was his brief and (according to him) raunchy stint with Fireflight. So overengerized and embedded in his tale was Powerglide that he didn't recognize when the others at his table hastily made excuses and fled the room. He similarly didn't recognize that the 'bot that sat down next to him was Sandstorm who listened to the tale with a dark, angry smile.

_

* * *

  
Fireflight finds out about Sandstorm's past._

Arms pulled him in- trembling, desperate -against a body that barely seemed able to stand. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

Fireflight broke out of the triplechanger's arms, head swimming with emotion and revelation and the overwhelming hurt and fear at seeing a part of Sandstorm he never wanted to believe existed. "I can't- just... I-I need to think-"

Unable to cope with Sandstorm there, with everything he'd just experienced and witnessed threatening the shatter what he thought he always knew, Fireflight transformed and left him behind.

_

* * *

  
Fireflight coming back after he's had time to think, and saying the one thing - I don't know what - that can make it better._

He looked at Sandstorm, at the unmasked face so raw and afraid and thought about all the things he could say. He could say that he understands, that he forgives, that he'll always care- Fireflight could say all these things and there wouldn't be enough time or words to make Sandstorm believe.

So he took the Wrecker's hands and looked up into optics as open as his and said the words that wrapped up all he meant and all he wanted to say in a promise of always: "I love you."

The words seemed to cause Sandstorm to collapse, falling into Fireflight's arms and pressing his head against the planes of red armor. "Thank you," he whispered brokenly, saying all the thing there'd never be time for him to say, all the things Fireflight needed to hear, "thank you."


	33. Crossover Challenge

This month's challenge was not only very challenging and a lot more varied than it was in the past, some of them were really, really challenging XD Be prepared for crossovers galore!

Though I will say... I now have the urge to poke more at the Rockman and FFVI ideas.

* * *

Title: Crossover Challenge  
Fandom: Transformers G1, TFA, 2K7 and lots of others  
Rating: PG

_Bleach and Transformers: Urahara Kisuke, Kurosaki Ichigo, Prowl, Sunstreaker, and Sideswipe._

Ichigo looked absolutely horrified and it may have had more to do with Urahara's contemplative look than the actual events the two were suddenly faced with.

"I am going to ask you this," Ichigo told the exiled shinigami very slowly and very carefully, "and it's going to be a stupid question but I'm going to ask anyway because I _pray_ that you're going to say yes because I don't want to know the answer otherwise. This," he waved a hand to indicate 'this' meant the three very tall and very frowny metallic robot things that were previously not standing on two legs being all frowny, "is a modern practical experiment of yours, right? It's like shikai, right? But instead of with swords it's with cars, right? _Right_?"

Urahara called brightly to the robots, all smiles and fan. "We come in peace!"

_

* * *

  
Transformers and Rockman_

Astrotrain picked one of them up, the one in black and yellow with the weird antenna coming out of the helmet. "Lookit these things," he exclaimed, rolling the miniature robot around in his hands as the other Decepticons looked on with disinterest and distaste. "These things are smaller than the cassettes! What in the Unmaker's name are _these_ supposed to do?"

The small robot glared up Astrotrain's nose as the triplechanger put his face right up to it. A small hand lay flat between his optics and-

"ARGH! THE LITTLE SCRAPLET _SHOCKED_ ME!"

Skywarp raised his hand toward Megatron. "I want that one!"

_

* * *

  
Transformers and Host Club._

('07 movie-verse)

At first they were flabbergasted. Not to the extent they were flabbergasted when they found out Haruhi could tell them apart, but nonetheless their flabber was gasted.

"You..."

"But you only met us for... what, ten minutes?"

"How do you know?"

The big, hideously neon robot cocked his head down at the Hitachiin twins. "It's very simple, your DNA, while similar is still very different. Kaoru is 3.8% lighter in weight due to slightly less muscle mass and .005% broader frame. Hikaru holds himself straighter and has a heightened level of testosterone as well as a slightly lower timber in pitch."

The two boys looked at each other, completely let down.

"This doesn't count."

"Not at all."

_

* * *

  
G1 Fireflight ends up in Animated_

So this red, weird looking jet _claiming_ to be an Autobot might be doing okay. Stressing the word _might_, of course, because for a while he actually _did_ seem to be doing okay despite a mighty head-on collision with a skyscraper.

He seemed to have been okay around Blukhead and Ratchet and Bumblebee and Jazz. Optimus kept getting weird looks, though, and the jet kept referring to him by his rank instead of his name. Then he met Sentinel Prime and he started getting confused and when he met Ultra Magnus and was explained, _yes_ Ultra Magnus was the guy in charge and _no_ Optimus Prime definitely was not, something froze up in his head that Ratchet grumbled about having to deal with the entire time he was elbow deep in the kid's cranium.

And then when he met _Prowl_...

"Prowl?"

"Yes."

"_Prowl_?"

"Yeeees."

"_PROWL_?"

"........"

"Hey, uh, Flight?"

"I think he froze up again."

Prowl turned away, washing his hands of this. "I'm going to the country side, call me when this is over."

_

* * *

  
Transformers and Pirates of the Caribbean_

The crew looked on in silence, some speechless from horror, some from amazement, some from just plain 'what the _hell_'. Towering above them and seeming not even caring about the _Black Pearl_ as it bobbed helplessly in their wake, were two gargantuan metal beings. One was made of bright greens and purples, the other orange and gray and the two grappled with each other.

"Mr. Gibbs," Jack said as calmly as he did in the face of all the weirdness that seemed to enjoy popping by to see him, "I seem to have come across a conundrum."

Gibbs couldn't take his eyes off the scene and could barely make out an, "Oh?"

"I can't decide if we didn't have enough rum or if we had too much."

_

* * *

  
_Transformers and Xenogears: Aerialbots, and/or Wreckers and Bart + co.

When the Yggdrasil shook, Bart had taken off from the hangar to the bridge, telling the others he'd find out what was going on. When the subsand/submarine/airship hybrid shook again, the others exchanged concerned looks. When it kept shaking, they decided to (stumble) make their way to the bridge to see what had happened.

Clambering over rails and each other, they crammed through the door and, like Bart before them and the bridge crew before him, froze.

Next to the Yggdrasil- _right_ next to the Yggdrasil and in fact seeming to _cuddle up against it_ -was a huge ship with a large, red insignia on it.

On a communications line was apparently someone on the other ship sounding extremely sheepish while others were shouting and begging and coaxing in the background. "I'm, uh, really sorry about this. I mean seriously really sorry about this. Xantium, er, kinda gets lonely every once in a while..."

_

* * *

  
Digimon and Transformers: Kari and Gatomon accidentally gate into Red Alerts Security room._

"There was a human girl and a cat in here! I swear it!"

"Red Alert, there is no way anything could have gotten into your security room without anyone noticing. Not even the _cassettes_ have managed to get inside there."

"I'm _telling_ you! I turned around and they were _there_!"

"There are no kids or animals inside the Ark."

"_But they were there_!"

"They were _not_. You just overworked yourself. Again."

"They _were_! A little girl and a cat with gloves!"

"......."

"They were standing _right. There_!"

"Of course, Red Alert. You just calm down with First Aid and we'll take a look for this girl and her very fashionable cat."

"Don't patronize me!"

_

* * *

  
Transformers and Torchwood: Swindle and Captain Jack_

"Are you telling me- wait, what's the name now?"

"Captain Jack Harkness."

"Captain Jack, huh? You're saying you don't do this kind of stuff anymore?"

"Nope," Jack adjusted his great coat smartly. "I'm a respectable man now, sorry."

"Not even a _little_?"

"Now, Swindle. I know we've known each other- or will know each other, or whatever -for a long while and most of that long while had been a rather pleasant knowing. The point is, you tend to get yourself into trouble even _I_ can't handle and, quite frankly, I don't want to be exposing my team to your kind of trouble."

"But Jaaaack~"

"No is no, Swindle."

Seat on the ground, still towering over the former Time Agent, Swindle pouted in a way most unbecoming of a giant robot representative of the ambitious Decepticon faction.

"Don't make that face at me. I pull it off much better than you, anyway."

"How 'bout a trade."

Even with his new found respectability, Jack couldn't hide the gleam of ever-present curiosity. "Trade?"

"You help me out with just the _teeniest_ bit of covering up and I'll give you something nice for that Welsh boy you're trying to cozy up to."

"Since when have I ever needed outside help with anyone?"

Swindle smiled wide and bright. "Since I know you like games."

_

* * *

  
_One Piece and Transformers: the D brothers meet the twins

Sunstreaker snarled, snapping and pulling and jerking and all 'round trying to by psychotic to the weird gummy human that was determined to clamber all over him. "Knock it off!" He growled. "Get away from me, damned freak!" He knew humans were weird but _this_? Since when were humans supposed to be able to _stretch_??

The little monkey human (Monkey D. Luffy, what a fitting name) just ignored the giant metallic embodiment of _anger_ and continued to prod and gape. "How are you moving? Can you transform again? Are you a cyborg like Franky? Where do you store your cola?"

"_Get off and DIE already_!"

"Heyhey, Sunny! Sunny, check this out!" Standing well away from his twin and Luffy, Sideswipe had Ace sitting comfortably between his horns. "Ready?"

Ace tipped his hat back with a grin. "Always."

"Flame on!" All at once, Sideswipe burst into flames and, with the whine of his jet pack barely audible above the roaring fire, he jumped into the air. "I'm the Autobot Torch!"

Sunstreaker slapped a hand to his face. "Everyone here is a fraggin' lunatic."

_

* * *

  
FMA and Transformers: Elric brothers, Mustang and the Aerialbots_

"Argh- what the Pit! Get this little thing offa me!"

"_Who're you calling a minuscule bean you can't find with a microscope_??"

"He... didn't say that."

"GET IT OFF!"

"Niisan! What are you doing?"

"They have the Stone, Al! I _know_ they have it!"

"What are you talking about? And someone get it off me already!"

"Sling, just- stop flailing, alright? We can't get at it with you jumping around like that!"

"Al, help me! These things _have_ to have the Philosopher's Stone! How else can such big metal things move? Or turn into flying machines?"

"Fullmetal, I need you to- oh." Colonel Mustang looked up at the tiny blob of red and blond cling desperately to the body of a giant robot surrounded by a group of other giant robots. "I see you've already met them."

"Colonel," Silverbolt said with a worn expression, "shouldn't you have given someone a little more warning? Or even an explanation?"

Roy looked almost shocked at the idea. "But then it wouldn't nearly have been as fun, would it?"

"Niiiisaaaan!"

_

* * *

  
Red Dwarf and Transformers: Prowl meets the cat_

"'Ey, you! Big metal thing!"

Prowl looked down at the small humanoid creature that identified itself as a cat. "Yes?"

"Why's all the stuff in my room cleared out?"

A doorwing twitched slightly. "First off, all the 'stuff' you claim is yours does not belong to you. It's either supplies or equipment that is for access to the entire base or they were personal belongings of others. Second, 'your' room is, in fact, _my_ quarters. You and the rest of your crew have your own assigned living areas."

"Uh-uh, see, that ain't how it works," Cat said, poking a finger at Prowl as if he didn't merely go up to the SIC's knees. "See, that room? That's my room. And all that stuff? That's my stuff. So my stuff should go into my room."

"As I've explained, none of that is yours."

"I marked it. That makes it mine."

Both doorwings were beginning to twitch. "That is not how it works."

"It sure does! I mark it, it's mine. That's how it always goes! Now I'mma go mark other things and this time they're gonna stay in my room, got it? In fact," Cat looked around, "I'm gonna need a bigger room to put all my stuff in."

Cat proceeded to scamper off to find an appropriately sized room. Prowl went off to, once again, convince Jazz to take over dealing with the Red Dwarf's crew.

_

* * *

  
Slayers and Transformer: 'cons have met their match in Lina Inverse_

"_This_? _This_ is the great energy source Soundwave had located? _This_ is what the mighty Megatron has sent his elite to secure? Two minuscule _humans_?"

Skywarp and Thundercracker just stood before Starscream, not at all bothered by his ranting. Partly, however, because it wasn't them he was ranting at, but rather the humans they were holding."

"Come off it, Screamer," Skywarp drawled. "We got what Megatron wants and you're just going to go through it all again with him when we get back to the _Nemesis_ so why don't you spare our audios and save it for then?"

"Shut up, Skywarp! And I told you to stop calling me that!"

"He's got a point, though," Thundercracker said diplomatically. To keep his own human captive from being spastic and loud, he was holding him upside down. "You're not going to get the same kind of satisfaction yelling at us when we don't like this any more than you do."

"This entire thing is a _waste_!" Their leader growled, glaring down at the humans. "I can't believe I, Starscream, have to waste my time and efforts on such a useless task as bringing in two worthless little fleshbags!"

"Oi, oi, big mouth," the red-haired human growled, arms crossed into fists atop Skywarp's hand, "you should be a little nicer with what you say."

"_Nice_? To _humans_? You should be grateful that you're even still alive!"

Her eyes narrowed at that. "So you're saying you're planning on killing us?"

"If I'm feeling merciful."

"Huh. Okay." She closed her eyes and raised her hands.

Thundercracker leaned in to watch her, curious and confused. "What is it doing?" The human in his hand started kicking frantically.

"Darkness beyond twilight, crimson beyond blood that flows..."

_

* * *

  
Good Omens and Transformers_

From across the way in a nice and rather expensive cafe (that, for the right price, served a portion of alcohol as early as noon) Crowley and Aziraphale were the only two people (or rather people-shaped beings) around to watch the wanton destruction going on a couple buildings down (and in) from them. They weren't certain exactly what was going on (both claimed vehemently their side had nothing to do with it) but that it had something to do with robots and aliens.

"Angel."

"Hm?"

"You remember the Apocalypse That Almost Was?"

"Of course."

"I really miss it right now."

"I had that very same thought."

Crowley sipped his (liberally spiked) tea and wondered if he could make the Bentley transform.

* * *

_Final Fantasy VI and Transformers_

"Lost the Esper girl," Kefka groused to himself, alternating between scowls and uncontrollable cackles. "And those useless Magitek soldiers went and got themselves vaporized before I could even kill them for their stupidity!" Normally the notion of one's demise at the (metaphorical) hands of a frozen Esper-cicle would've sent him into peals of laughter, but not now. Not when he's most intriguing of toys was now missing.

"No matter. I have plenty more toys to play with," he told himself, hands rubbing and twisting together in pale, thick-knuckled knots. Kefka rode the platform into the Magitek factory beneath the palace and a second platform to the labs even further below. "Cid!" His thin voice cracked above the cacophony of hissing machines and working parts and crackling tests. "Cid! I want my new armor! _Now_!"

Cid scurried forward, faceless among the countless other technicians beneath the sweat and grime and yellow protective suit. "Sir, we're trying as fast as we can-"

"Try _faster_." It was not an order to be casually ignored.

"Sir, it is not as easy to infuse these relics with magic as it is with regular Magitek armor. It's almost as difficult as infusing a person. We've already damaged another one beyond all repair-"

Kefka's hand, despite its thinness and boniness, was hard and unbreakable and Cid could feel the power even through all the layers that protected his neck. "I don't want failure, Cid," he hissed. "I want results. I have lost three Magitek armors and the Esper girl. Show me this armor."

"Yessir, of course! R-Right this way." Cid hurried toward the main lab, bent under his suit. Years of hard research and long hours of work and fear of Kefka had whittled him to a man far older than his years.

In the main lab, five of six of the stalls were occupied by large metallic bipedal creatures of various sizes and shapes. Two had wings- one black, the other white -while two more had wheels- one a boxy, dull green, the other slender and blue and white. The tallest was red and blue and was the one furthest along in the experimentation.

"Ah, the first of my new army," Kefka said with his painted lips curling into a smile of cold passion. "These are no mere Magitek armors. These... will be my Magitek Elite."

* * *

_Bleach and Transformers: Uonohana Retsu and Ratchet  
I dunno what would be scarier: them fighting or getting along in some Medical Alliance From Hell_

"You just... smile at them?"

"Oh yes."

"Smile? That's it?"

"Yes."

"You just smile? And they do as you say? No arguments?"

"None at all."

"I... don't know how that's possible."

"You should try it sometimes. A simple smile can do wonders."

"Hey, Ratchet! I've been looking all over for you, you know! I keep telling you, I've got this terrible pain going up my diodes and the joint in my knee is acting up again and I swear there's some twisted up cables in-"

Huffer abruptly found himself speechless, suddenly faced with a very brightly smiling Ratchet. "Pain you say?" The CMO said almost (Huffer shuddered to himself) warmly. "Now isn't that a shame, you coming to me with the same complaints you had last time. Why, one would almost think it's like you're saying I can't do my job!"

Huffer didn't know what to say, but he knew he had to say it carefully. "Er, I... didn't say that."

"Of course you didn't."

"I didn't even mean to imply it either- you know that, Ratchet!"

"Of course you wouldn't."

"It's just... er..."

"Yes?"

"I..."

"Yes?"

Huffer looked desperately between the smiling Ratchet and the equally smiling shinigami sitting next to him. "You know what? It's really not that bad at all. You just... keep doing what you're doing and I'll go somewhere else." Without waiting for a goodbye, Huffer bolted.

"Well, Unohana-taichou I must admit. You certainly do know how to deal with patients."

The captain smiled and picked up her cup of tea. "It's something I seem to excel at."

* * *

_Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Transformers Animated: Bumblebee makes a new friend; Prowl and Jazz are horrified to learn that someone as spastic as Mikey is actually a ninja._

"Dude."

"Dude."

"No dude. Seriously."

"No, seriously dude. I know."

"I know, dude. But still."

"Yeah. I mean... dude."

"Dude, man."

"Dude."

Prowl abruptly surged to his feet, hands in tight fists at his side. "That's it! I've had enough!"

"Aw, c'mon dude-"

"No! No more! Not another dude out of either of you!"

"But-"

"_No_! This is beyond absurd! This is... this is practically an insult!" Prowl jabbed a finger at the green form lounging against the yellow Autobot's side. "How can you even call yourself a ninja- you have as much discipline as Bumblebee!"

Ranting done, Prowl turned on his heel and stalked out.

"Dude," Bumblebee said slowly, "you are like _the_ greatest ninja _ever_."

Michelangelo smirked, continuing to lounge to his deceptive heart's content. "I know, dude. I know."


	34. With All Thy Mercies

Something that popped into my head after reading chapter 12, prompt 14 from Elvenarchress's Spiraling Out of Control. Don't know if this will fit in the official Collide timeline but it's still good to get an idea out there, right? Besides, I need to write more while I'm still on break from school. This particular arch is probably going to span one, maybe two more chapters so... uh, enjoy? If that's the right word for it. Poor Octane is probably more accurate a reaction.

* * *

Title: With All Thy Mercies  
Fandom: Transformers G1  
Rating: PG-13  
Characters: Octane, Fireflight  
Summary: A Decepticon and an Autobot are stuck in a room. One wants what the other has.

The first thing Octane heard was a low groan. The second thing he heard was, "Don't move."

That's when his processors helpfully supplied two things. One: that groan came from him. Two: That 'don't move' was not only on the fairly-uncertain side, it was also from that jet he'd been chasing earlier.

"You," he growled, shoving himself on to his peds and not at all caring that the Autobot jet had a weapon trained on him. He didn't even look like he _wanted_ to be pointing his weapon on Octane, let alone trying to intimidate him. Octane looked around them and felt an awful lot of pangs on his body. "Did you crash us?"

The Autobot looked defensive. "_You_ were the one chasing me! I didn't mean to crash into here and then you hit and half the wall came down and I woke up and here we both are and now we're _trapped_-"

"Shut up." Octane had more pressing matters then being stuck in a building with _him_. Wringing his little neck was at the top of it.

"Why were you chasing me, anyway?" The jet lowered his weapon, as if Octane weren't a threat to him. He didn't even seem accusatory, just confused. "I mean, I might've been out on my own, but so were you."

The triplechanger glared, expression a dark, scathing scowl. He glared until the other fidgeted but the jet didn't break his gaze. His expression wasn't challenging or superior and Octane felt himself getting angrier and angrier. What was the point of this jet? Why the hell was Octane even here? It had been a couple centuries- why did he even care?

When rumors started coming in, he'd gotten jokes and condescending looks and more than a couple vindictive smiles, like this was all some elaborate plan to get back at Octane for something or other. Whatever, what did Octane care? It was over and done with and he told Swindle that much when the Combaticon had told him he knew where this particular jet was going to be stationed next.

But he still paid for that information, didn't he? And he still found some way to get on the crew that was supplying the Decepticon base on the same planet. And he'd waited and watched and kept telling himself this was stupid and didn't matter but when he saw the jet flying out on his own something inside of Octane snapped and he gave chase.

And Octane wasn't a fighter, wasn't built to be a fighter in either alt mode and even if the Autobot was reported to be on the oblivious side, he could still _fly_ in ways Octane couldn't ever dream of keeping up with. And then the jet didn't paying attention to something or other and crashed and Octane had followed too closely, too quickly and crashed right in after him and now they were both trapped and Octane had the smaller mech shoved into a pile of debris and was _yelling_ at him-

"What the hell is so great about you!" He didn't even know what happened, one moment he was on the other side of the enclosed space, the next the Autobot was sprawled on the ground, shocked. "What the hell makes you so special, what makes you worth his time?"

"Wha-"

"_Why does he give a damn about you when he won't even give cold slag about me_?"

The Autobot's expression softened, became something like understanding as he slowly sat up. "You're talking about Sandstorm."

"Why is it _you_? What makes you so much better than _me_?" Octane was wild now with no way to pull himself back until everything had spilled out. "I had a _plan_, dammit! _We_ had a plan! Everything was finally working out just the way it was supposed to and then he drops me and picks up _you_!"

Octane knew that what happened to him and Sandstorm's fascination with the jet weren't related, he knew exactly how much time had passed between one point and another (had counted each day in some subconscious torture). But it was still so much easier to blame the Autobot than admit that there was something about himself that was lacking. That he somehow wasn't good enough for Sandstorm.

And then… oh, and _then_ the jet had the gall to say, "I'm sorry."

The Decepticon stomped on the other's chest, shoving him on his back again, grinding him into the deck. "_Sorry_?" He'd reached a level of explosive anger he never thought possible before. "You're _sorry_?" Octane's hands itched and if he'd been holding a weapon he'd probably have shot that Autobot before he even realized he was doing it.

Nosecone and sensitive wings digging into the debris, he squirmed painfully but didn't fight. "Sandstorm hurt a lot of others," he said, "I'm sorry that he hurt you, too."

"I _know_ that!" The words were punctuated by another hard _stomp_ to the chest. Unstable with rage and with them both at an awkward angle, Octane stumbled back a few steps. "He only used me to get his triplechanger upgrade! Acted as if he could care and dragged me around by my emotions and took off the moment he got what he need- I know what he is!"

The expression on the Autobot was almost insultingly open. "_You_ helped him become a triplechanger? You mean he wasn't built like that?" He struggled to his feet.

Octane's mouth twisted part in ugly laughter, part in a snarl. "You didn't _know_?"

"I… well, no-"

He stalked closer, optics burning almost too brightly. "You didn't know that he was a Decepticon long enough for the upgrade and for me to teach him how to fly before he bolted," Octane accused, finding this all too stupid and hilarious and infuriating. "You don't know where he came from, do you? What he did before he joined the Autobots? What he had to do to survive, to stop being preyed on- you don't know a damn thing about him! You don't know why he is the way he is-"

"So what?" The jet snapped back, shoulders squaring and body straightening and Octane realized that the Autobot wasn't really as small as he first thought. "What does it matter if he tells me these things or not? So what if I don't know why he doesn't like showing his face? Isn't it enough that I know he doesn't? Isn't it enough for me to cherish when I can see him smile? His past might have made him, but it's not who he _is_! I know that he loves to fly, I know that he'll take cycles to decide to buy something, I know he prefers recharging on his front, I know he'll use someone's emotions against them and I know he hates that I know that! I know all these things about him and it doesn't matter _why_ he's like that, it only matters that _that_ is the way he is!"

White wings flared out and underneath all the naivete and uncertainty and fear there was an iron will in that jet that, once accepting something, would never let it go. For every step he took forward, it forced Octane back just as many. "There's a lot of things I don't know about Sandstorm, but I also know there's a lot of things he won't talk about or he can't talk about- it doesn't matter which, just that he won't say it one way or another. I can't force him to tell me things he's not ready to, I'm happy with what little he lets me know. So no- I don't know where he came from, I don't know what kind of relationship the two of you had and it doesn't matter if I want to know these things or not because if Sandstorm can't talk about it, how can I force him to tell me? If I care for him as much as I say I do, I can't make him say what he's too afraid to! Until he trusts me and trusts himself enough, I'm happy with the parts of him I _do_ have!"

The look he got was incredulous. "And that's it? After that, you don't care? Even with what I told you, you're not even going to bring it up to him unless he brings it up first?"

"That's right."

"_Why_?"

"Because someone asking questions isn't what he needs. I don't care if it takes centuries or if he'll never tell me what's happened because if it were that important, I believe he'd tell me." He nodded, as if he decided something internally. "I have faith in Sandstorm. I have faith that one day he won't be afraid of kindness, that he'll be able to trust others again. He can't do that if I'm pushing him harder than he's willing to go."

"Idiot." But the jet didn't look indignant and Octane wasn't sure which one of them he meant.

"You still love him, don't you?"

"Feh!" He wanted to laugh, wanted to shout no, wanted to beat the other mech for even suggesting it. Who could love someone like Sandstorm? Who could ever fall for that charm, for those sly grins and lightening quick hands and the way he managed to funnel the entire universe down to whoever he was seducing at that moment? Who could love someone that had taken everything Octane was more than happy to give, laughed at his one want for them to be together and left Octane broken and alone with all his emotions kicked back in his face? Who could love and keep loving someone like that?

"I don't care," he lied, because he couldn't bring himself to say anything else.

"Do you ever see him?"

Why was he even talking about this? Why was he talking about this to an _Autobot_? To the Autobot that had what Octane kept telling himself he didn't want? "Sometimes," he answered petulantly and deliberately didn't think about how often he'd gone out of his way to track Sandstorm. Or find some reason to talk to him, or all the times Octane willingly came out the loser to exchange information or goods with the Wrecker just because it meant he got to talk with Sandstorm. Because he got to meet with him and be with him and Octane could almost fool himself into believing that this was okay. That one day Sandstorm would realize what it was he tossed away and would come back willingly. And Octane hated that part of himself and the fact he couldn't stop listening to it.

"I wanted to be that."

The Decepticon hadn't realized he said that until the jet cocked his head in curiosity. Neither did Octane mean to say anything after that. "I wanted to be the one to help him and support him and make him whole again." He laughed bitterly. "You don't even know what they did to him and he can't tell you most of it because he doesn't even remember himself- but I do and _you're_ still the one that gets to fix everything." Hands clenched tight, pressing into his thighs in fists. "And you are. You're changing him and making things right for him again and I want it to be _me_ doing that. Why is it something he'll let you do when he never even gave me the chance?"

He went to the other side of the enclosure and sat heavily, head braced against his arms that braced against his legs. The Autobot didn't know what to say and when he moved to step closer Octane said wearily, "Leave me alone. I don't even know why I came here…"

So they sat on opposite sides, neither saying anything and waited. Autobots came- the jet's gestalt mates if Octane had any guess –and pulled an opening through the destroyed wall. Octane didn't move, just sat and stayed silent and wished they'd hurry up and leave him be.

"Geez, Wingnut! You had us worried!"

"You're not hurt, are you?"

"I'm fine, sorry. I didn't mean worry anyone."

"I'll take care of this 'con and then we'll get you home and looked at."

"Wait, Slingshot- don't!"

Everyone stopped and Octane nearly looked up in surprise.

"Just… leave him alone, okay?"

He could practically hear the frowns on the other Autobots.

"Leave him alone?"

"Flight, you sure you're not hurt?"

"It's okay. Really! He's got enough things to deal with, we can let him go just this one time. Please, Silverbolt?"

A pause stretched out and Octane still didn't twitch. He realized in a hazy sort of numb that he didn't care what happened either way.

"Fireflight is our priority," came the eventual verdict. "Since the Decepticon isn't being aggressive, we'll leave him be."

"But-"

"Get flying, Slingshot. We got what's most important."

Parts whirled in transformation and engines whined high, ready to take off. Then someone said, very close to Octane's back, "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"For a lot of things. I know what it's like, not being able to be with someone you love and worrying about them every klik that they're gone. I'm sorry you've felt like that for so long and I'm sorry the best I can do is promise to help him however I can." Fingertips pressed just barely against Octane's wing. "I can't say I'd feel any different in your position. I love Sandstorm too much to ever let him go and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure he doesn't regret the time he spent with me. The best I can do to apologize for your pain is to be there for him any way he needs me. I know it's not what you want, but I hope you can accept his happiness no matter who he's with."

Octane said nothing, too upset to know which way he felt. Eventually the fingertips left his wing and the last jet transformed and gunned his engine and all five flew out. Octane sat and wondered what the hell he was doing.


	35. 1 Sentence Challenge IV

Another month another (late) 24-hour challenge. And, because I've been bad and not replying to reviews for a long while- massive reader review is up. Or you can scroll down to the section break where the challenge starts.

First off to everyone that commented about enjoying particular sections of previous drabble challenges I did- specifically those concerning the crossovers -by all means go ahead and expand away! I'm likely not going to be doing anything along those lines at all, so I'm more than happy to share the love around! (meanwhile, we'll see how much more i can write before school starts up again toward the end of the month...)

Robin Moto: Ah, yes... cartoon plotholes, let me count how many of you there are XD But it's a children's cartoon, I suppose it's not so much of a surprise, is it?

Youko Rayah: I don't normally talk with my hands, but there's some gestures I catch myself doing automatically- even when I'm just thinking to myself XD And yes, Scrapper will take a lot of things, but no one abuses his team and gets away with it.

Turtlegirl, Puffi the Insane: Unfortunately it's not too likely that I'll be doing much with Animated at all as I'm not a fan of the show. Sometimes someone has an idea that bites me, but normally I keep far from that series.

Vaeru: I'll marry you if you help pay off my student loans XD And all those prompts were the work of my minions- I mean, my readers XD

Silveriss: Like the title of this collection says! And don't go reading yourself to exhaustion! The internet will be here tomorrow! (we hope)

Ookami Aya: Thank you! That's why I got into fanfiction in the first place- being able to expand on characters and ideas, flesh them out, give them backgrounds... (and make up for the fact some characters don't get used much in actual canon)

Ianam: School more so than the holidays, then the usual week to do nothing but veg and get my sanity back XD I really love Fireflight's boundless compassion and that he can be strong without being violent about it. I also love how much he's grown, too- you know at the beginning of the relationship he likely wouldn't have been able to defend his relationship or his place in it. It's why I like those two so much, they need each other equally, to both protect and be protected. And you know Sandstorm will eventually have to face the things he's done. He'll stop running one day, even if the circumstances surrounding that day will be harsh.

Kyra: I'm very much flattered that you enjoyed the last chapter enough to write such a long comment for it! I used to have trouble with omniscience before, too- I still catch myself slipping up on it (and possibly have moments i haven't caught...). One thing I love doing (asides from subverting prompts as i'm sure you've come to learn XD) is making a traditional bad guy sympathetic, or a traditional good guy a little twisted. I love playing with grays because that's the way the world works- someone can do terrible things to others, not out of malice but because they honestly want to help but go about it all wrong. Unfortunately Octane's feelings are very much like that- all twisted around over time and being brushed away and his own guilt that it turned something very much pure into this ugly thing that had him acting violently. I realy do want Octane to be happier, poor guy.

And, as always, thank you everyone that reviewed- I do very much appreciate it!

* * *

Title: 1-Sentence Challenge  
Fandom: Transformers G1, TFA, two crossovers  
Rating: PG-13

**Starscream, Gin (Bleach)**

"Well, giant metal man-yan," the former 3rd division captain said, "I think I might know how to help the both of us out..."

**Wheeljack, Urahara (Bleach)**

"'The powers of justice, justice armor, justice headband, attack'? You humans come up with the silliest activation codes, Mr. Urahara."

**TFA!Jazz, Prowl - oblivious**

"No, Jazz, I am not just saying this- organic birds really do not care that you're an Autobot, just as they wouldn't care if you're a Decepticon, or sentient or just a regular Earth vehicle; they go when they want and where they want and Primus help you if you're underneath them at the time."

**TFA!Prowl - secrets**

He told no one and no one bothered to ask him, but Prowl's tree housed five families of birds (three different species), two clans of squirrels, an owl and some mice that burrowed down in the soft soil around its roots.

**TFA!Prowl - hidden**

Prowl glared as best he could in alt mode around the people clustered about him, but his comm reached Optimus much easier, "I believe this 'hiding in plain sight' idea of yours was rendered moot when we were all _televised live_."

**TFA!Sideswipe, Jazz - jealousy**

Jazz regaled the other Elite Guard with tales of Earth and- more importantly -his sleek new alt mode (that he was absolutely keeping, no matter how much Sentinel complained about it) and Sideswipe sighed enviously, "I want one..."

**sparkling!Springer - ghost stories**

"Oh, nice going- scared the poor thing half to death! He won't be coming out of Scoop's shovel for a deca-cycle!"

**Starscream and sparkling!Springer -spawn of evil**

Just as they predicted, Starscream was howling at the Wreckers as a little green sparkling clung and giggled happily against his back, "TAKE IT BACK! I BEG OF YOU, GET THIS THING AWAY FROM ME!"

**Fireflight - mischief**

Fireflight waited until the crowd of angry, green-covered mechs ran past him (not even giving him a second glance) before he continued down the hall to put away the empty paint can unaccosted- no one ever suspected the sweet ones.

**Skydive, Prowl - planning**

Prowl looked at the itinerary, then at Skydive, opened his mouth, then shut it and figured it smarter not to point out that this was supposed to be the Aerialbots' vacation- if three fifths of the team wasn't kept constantly busy, Prowl didn't think he'd want to know what kind of 'fun' they would end up coming up with.

**Air Raid, Topspin - conspiracy**

Springer stopped in the hallway, backed up several steps and peered into a room where Air Raid and Topspin were sitting primly at a table, giving him the same exact 'we're absolutely innocent, why do you ask' grins and said, "You two are not allowed to be alone together. _Ever_."

**Springer, Megatron - mid-fight snark**

Megatron actually stopped mid-punch, his jaw hanging around his chest before getting the sense to snap back, "_My helmet does not look like a human urinal_!"

**Aerialbots, Seekers - impressed**

"Okay," Skywarp said as the collective strength of the Aerialbots- Superion -towered over him and his trinemates for the first time, "now I'm impressed."

**Prowl, Springer - Prowl wins one**

Springer stood, gaping soundlessly until Prowl gave him a smirk and said, "You shouldn't stand there with your mouth open like that, Springer- it leaves a bad impression on the lower ranks."

**Prowl, Springer - Springer wins one**

Prowl's hand clenched until the datapad started hissing with strain and Springer, very smugly, told him, "Have a bit more restraint, Prowl- don't want to be giving the lower ranks the wrong idea."

**Skywarp + twisted around**

Not only was teleporting technology difficult to learn, but mastering it was even _harder_ as Skywarp proved when he got his coordinates twisted around and ended up teleporting himself at the perfect height to plow over Megatron.

**Omega Supreme, Ratchet + until the end**

He never questioned why Ratchet would come through and do a diagnostic check as regular as anything even though Omega Supreme rarely saw any action; he didn't question because he knew the kind of mech Ratchet was- he'd worry and care and check over every little thing meticulously on any 'bot no matter who they were because he was a medic and he was one til the end.

**Starscream - ambush**

Starscream hoped the novelty of this teleporting technology would wear off Skywarp soon, he didn't know how many more 'DEATH FROM ABOVE!'s he could take.

**Scoop + underestimated**

They didn't know how it happened- one moment the lot of them had one lone Autobot backed up against the wall, the next all but one Decepticon had been shot and the survivor was on his back with the smaller Autobot pressing a rifle to his head with a pleasant grin that didn't match the hardness of his optics, "I did say," the orange Autobot said, "I wanted no trouble, didn't I?"

**Sandstorm, Springer - breaking the rules**

Sandstorm's optic band reflected the curled smile under his battlemask, amused at the questioning glance he got from Springer as he looked over Sandstorm's proposal to get better equipment at a cheaper price through less... legal means, "It's only breaking the rules if we get caught."

**Fireflight, Prowl - smiles**

Surprised (but not at all questioning) at the lack of lecture for being caught running in the halls of the Ark, Fireflight hurried to the hangar where the rest of the Aerialbots were waiting for him so they could go play tag in the clouds; Prowl watched the young jet go with a satisfied smile on his faceplates.

**Prowl, Fireflight - caring**

At the surprise (and, dare he say, hurt) in Prowl's expression, Fireflight felt absolutely terrible with having said that- even if Prowl had asked the jet to repeat what others said that made Fireflight upset in the first place -and the tactician said in an oddly tight voice, "They think I don't care?"

**Prowl, Fireflight - comfort**

He wasn't very good at the comforting thing and he really didn't know what to say, so he just fidgeted on his feet and did the only thing he could do- be honest, "I know you do."

**Springer, Sunstreaker - bane**

As Springer tried his best to calm down the angry mob of locals he commed Sunstreaker on a private channel, #One of these days your temper is going to get someone killed and right now I'm thinking it's gonna be me...#

**Grapple, Hoist - crush**

Hoist was apoplectic almost to the point of silence before he managed out, "Could you have at least _looked_ before you sat down?"

**Roadbuster, Whirl - lending a hand**

Whirl picked up Roadbuster's hand, turned it over, looked at Roadbuster himself and as he opened his (proverbial) mouth, Roadbuster said, "You say it, I will pummel you with the one hand I do have."

**Skywarp, Megatron - pretty**

While his leader looked on, completely flabbergasted at the old school style pin-up girl suddenly decorating one of his elite fliers, Skywarp just said, "Well, I think she's pretty."

**Motormaster, Megatron - prank**

"No, Motormaster- while pranks are annoying and superfluous, it is not a valid reason for you to maim Soundwave's cassettes; now get yourself cleaned up and get someone to mop up this mess and fix the command center's doors."

**Starscream, Megatron - satiated**

"He's imagining destroying Megatron and taking over command of the Decepticons again, isn't he? Wake me when he's done, will you?"

**Starscream, Thundercracker, Skywarp - relaxation**

Up here, they could forget about the war and about ranks and responsibilities, they could forget about their pains and fears and whatever rifts were underscoring their trine- all they needed was the sky and each other.

**Prowl, Red Alert - silver**

"Red Alert, while I am certain the humans are glad to help you ensure the security of the base and themselves, I would much rather- the next time Carly leaves her purse in the Ark -you not melt down her coins in order to replaces the electrical wiring in the secondary control panel."

**Sandstorm, Swindle - stuck**

Swindle smiled, all wide and smug with the knowledge he was about to pay for a crate load of contraband for almost half its asking price simply because the Wrecker could find no one else to buy it for higher before he got caught with it- the venomous hiss of, "I slagging hate you" only made Swindle's day that much better.

**Sludge - inner pain**

He wasn't stupid- maybe his processes were slower than they should be but he wasn't _stupid_ but with the way the other 'bots treated him and how sometimes even his own team scoffed at some of the things he said... who could blame Sludge for never speaking to anyone?

**Bluestreak - truth**

"The truth is," and he felt kind of guilty for saying this even if he was asked to and was told no one would get upset or hold it against him, "I think both sides lost the point of what this war is about."

**Chromia - uptown girl**

Femmes on a whole were considered high maintenance (even if, overall, the stress a mech went through daily had them undergoing more fixes and tune-ups in the long run); that didn't mean, though, if someone attempted to treat them as fragile, superfluous things that certain femmes were unable to prove how rough-n-tumble they could be.

**Ironhide - underrated**

Ironhide loved his job as an instructor for the Academy- specifically he loved feeling out the potential in the young enlisted bots, taking the ones others passed over as hopeless or unmotivated and turning them into a leader others looked up to.

**Ironhide, Chromia - perfectly matched**

Ironhide looked at Chromia, then at the corrected algorithms for the new training program he'd been struggling with and back up again, "You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

**Ironhide, Chromia - forgetting**

She was shocked at him, "No one _forgot_ any of you- we thought you were _dead_!"

**Sideswipe, Jazz + colorful**

Sideswipe had to stuff both his hands in his mouth to keep from laughing and giving away their position as an extremely irate mech shouted some _very_ colorful words and stomped off the opposite way (proving why Jazz was the undisputed master of sabotage), he commed an equally grinning Jazz with an, #I never expected that kind of language from _Hound_!#

**Wreckers - afterglow**

"Yeah, that's not an afterglow, that couple-megaton explosion was atomic and they've all gone radioactive- could we get a decontamination team down here stat?"

**Scrapper - tired**

One after another the Constructicons all peeped into the drafting where their leader had been working- up until the point he curled himself up on the table and fell into recharge -and every single one of them couldn't help say, "Primus, he's almost adorable!"

**Topspin, Twin Twist - scared**

Twin Twist woke up to something almost crushing his hand, pining it just enough to be painfully tight- it took him a moment to realize it was Topspin, who nearly broke down as he hissed to the driller, "_Don't ever do that to me again!_"

**Megatron, Starscream, Springer - just interface already!**

Springer couldn't take it anymore, shouting back at the two of them, "It's a fragging _movie_- I don't care how much UST is between the characters, they're not going to jump each other no matter how loud you fragging yell!"

**Megatron, Optimus Prime - sexual tension**

"Sexual ten- either your crew doesn't seem to understand I want to crush you under my heel or your lot may be more disturbed than mine."

**Optimus Prime, Prowl, Springer - compromising positions**

Prime put a hand to his helmet, shielding his optics and said, "Gentlemechs, if this 'not what it looks like' could occur somewhere that isn't my desk, I would be very grateful."

**Megatron, Optimus Prime, Springer - it's not what it looks like**

Springer said, very calmly and evenly for someone stumbling on a situation like this, "Sir, just for the record- is your desk still off limits for 'it's not what it looks like's to occur on?"

**Prowl, Onslaught + dance**

The battle was like a dance, each side advancing and falling back and moving together almost perfectly, almost exactly and it had taken nearly a deca-cycle before Prowl had found a critical miscalculation in his enemy's defenses and now that the Decepticon forces had crumbled and retreated and Prowl finally had a chance to relax, a message came from the commander he had been pitted against: "I look forward to more battles with you -Onslaught"

**Sideswipe, Sunstreaker - discussing lovers**

When Sideswipe randomly said, "I think we need to start seeing other people", Sunstreaker automatically shot back with, "I think you need to stop watching soap operas."

**Sandstorm, Smokescreen + reminisce**

He remembers what it was like when the other mech was first brought to the slums, remembers his confused expression after the first memory wipe, remembers all the moments when someone used him and broke him and he remembers the cold, self-serving mech the slums turned him into; but he looks at who Sandstorm ended up becoming, the friends he'd willingly give his life for, the love he'd fight his personal demons for and Smokescreen can't help but hope for a better future for everyone.

**Sandstorm, Octane + chair**

He was just a tool, he knew that- Sandstorm didn't care about Octane any more than he did the chair he sat in but sometimes, when he traced a hand over Octane's arm, smiled a certain way or purred just so, Octane almost thought these meetings _meant_ something.

**Sandstorm, Fireflight - wanna stay like this forever**

When Fireflight, draped over Sandstorm's back, asked what he would say if the jet wanted to stay like this forever, Sandstorm said, "Forever is a long time, wouldn't you want to go flying with me every once in a while?"

**Sandstorm, Fireflight - just a dream**

He jerked about, panicked and disoriented until the other mech wrapped him up in warm, gentle arms saying, "It's alright, Sandstorm- it wasn't real, I'm right here and I'll make sure everything is okay."

**Sandstorm, Fireflight - scared**

He held Fireflight's face firmly between his hands, "You just look at me and nothing else, alright? The only thing you'll pay attention to is me and only me- I swear to you I'll get you out of this."

**Prowl, Sideswipe + temptation**

Sideswipe's fingers itched, twitching on his leg and causing little sensations to jolt up his body; he couldn't help it, couldn't stop wanting to reach out and run a hand over that wing, to trace over the hinge and see just how sensitive it really was-

"Sideswipe," Prowl said sternly, doorwing flicking in annoyance, "pay attention."

**Twins, Prowl - saying yes to a date**

Prowl looked confused at the two frontliners fuming on the wrong side of energon bars, "I know I agreed to a date- the date on which I lock you in the brig for the tripwire prank you pulled earlier."

**Twins, Prowl - three-way kiss**

When Prowl finally managed to pull away (rather, when they finally decided to let him pull away) both were extremely happy with how utterly ravished he looked.

**Twins, Prowl - taken**

Prowl put a hand to his face, feeling every single optic either on him or one of the twins, "...you couldn't have blurted it all out in a more spectacular way, could you?"

**Twins, Prowl - overworked**

"We're going to get you out of this office," they murmured, lips sliding over the surface of his armor, "one way or another."

**Twins, Prowl - washing and waxing**

All they had to do was say, 'we're hitting the washracks' and Prowl's focused was shattered- imagining the two of them shimmering in solution and panels sliding back so they could fit cleaning brushes into little-touched areas and stretching under the heating lamps-

"If anyone asks, I am taking a short break."

**Twins, Prowl - claiming**

They both froze, shocked at the emotion and possessiveness in the normally stoic officer as he hissed, "I do not share with anyone, nor am I good at letting things out of my possession- that means if you do a stupid stunt like that and nearly kill yourselves again, I shall be _most_ unhappy, understood?"

**Twins, Prowl - protective**

"I do not care about the circumstances- those two are under my command and as such _my_ authority to punish and if I find you have gone behind my back regarding them again, I will have you court-martialed, is that understood?"

**Twins, Prowl - confession of affection**

"Do you really think we'd cause this much trouble, bring this much attention to ourselves- _your_ attention -without any kind of reason?"

**Twins, Prowl - embrace**

There was no way they'd be able to pull him away from his desk- not when he was pouring over and analyzing the data from the battle to find out what went wrong, where _he_ went wrong -so they sat quietly on either side of him, their arms loosely around his frame and waited until he wore himself out.

**Twins, Prowl - recovering from injury**

"It is not a critical wound of any sort, the Decepticon that caused it is likely in the mass of bodies somewhere and, for the last time, I am not in need of a bodyguard so I would be very much appreciative if you two would stop bringing it up."

**Twins, Prowl - possessive**

They told him if he wanted one he'd have to take the other because there was no separating the two; they told him that if he was with them, there would never be any others- for him, or for them -because did not take these things lightly, to them it was forever; he told them he didn't expect any less.

**Twins, Prowl - unexpected public display of affection**

Everything about Prowl was always subtle and understated and always so very private, but when his doorwing would brush over an arm, or his knee pressed against a leg (overlooked as a casual, inconsequential touch quickly forgotten as others tended to not remember that Prowl was not a casual, inconsequential mech) the twins would follow him out of the room as quickly as dignity would allow them.

**Twins, Prowl - cuddling**

It wasn't so much that Prowl was a cuddler, he just... liked the warmth and comfort of having a twin on either side (they didn't dispute this claim, but they did have wide, knowing grins that said otherwise).

**Twins, Prowl - spin the bottle**

He gave them an incredulous look, "Do you really need a bottle to give you permission for that?"

**Twins, Prowl - bonding announcement**

A container of high grade was shoved into Prowl's hands, the first of the congratulations already raining down on him as Prowl took a long pull and could barely think over a numbed set of processors- the sudden declaration that he was getting bonded to the twins was news to him, too.

(the following are all in the same story-arc)

**Megatron, Starscream - flustered**

'Note to self,' Megatron thought smugly, 'the quickest way to shut Starscream up is to tell him his performance on recent missions has been exemplary.'

**Megatron, Starscream - proud**

It took almost a cycle for Megatron's comment to really sink in and when it did, Starscream felt something he hadn't in so very long: pride.

**Starscream, Megatron - new endeavors**

It may have started out as a joke, but without that aggression between them, suddenly able to converse and work together, coming up with new plans and reworking how to deal with their own troops, Megatron was remembering just why he had appointed Starscream as his second in command in the first place.

(the following are all in the same story-arc, along the same lines as the recent Octane pieces I've been doing)

**Thundercracker, Octane + unexpected**

'It's just a rebound,' Octane told himself, trying to slow his thrumming internals, 'it's nothing important' (even though he's thinking of how those rare, sly grins transforms Thundercracker's serious expression to something wicked and dangerous and all kinds of gorgeous).

**Thundercracker, Octane**

Thundercracker didn't know what it was- he was having a conversation with Octane (an actual conversation! how long has it been since _that_ happened?) and they were joking back and forth before the triplechanger suddenly pulled back, fear and hurt deep in his expression.

**Thundercracker, Octane - mystery**

Thundercracker didn't know why it bothered him, but it did- with Octane suddenly avoiding him and Swindle's cryptic message of 'he thinks he's had a relapse' was it that much of a wonder that he was concerned?

**Thundercracker, Octane - rain**

Neither of them knew how it happened (though Thundercracker could hazard a guess...) but they were stuck in a very small place with their very long wingspans and the only way they could really deal with both was to stand still, practically in each others face where Thundercracker could see a very stiff smile on Octane as he said, "Guess when it rains, it pours..."

(the following are all in the same story-arc)

**Thundercracker/Fireflight/Sandstorm**

Thundercracker was torn between apologizing greatly and admitting he hadn't overloaded so hard he lost control of his harmonics in CENTURIES but... as the other two were clutching their audio receptors, he was pretty certain they wouldn't be able to hear him either way.

**Silverbolt - shock**

Silverbolt ranted as he hadn't since the team first formed- going on about how even if the war was over the Seeker was still dangerous and having a Wrecker there or not, Silverbolt did not approve-

All that ended up being moot anyway when Fireflight tilted his head and yelled loudly, "_What? I can't hear you!_"

**Starscream - shock**

Starscream ranted and raved (which was not really all that surprising for him) but when he found Thundercracker not cringing but in fact _grinning_ through it, he faltered to a stop; just enough for Thundercracker to lean in with a very smug, "I don't care."

**Springer + resignation**

He merely looked up at Sandstorm who just waited for some kind of criticism, some sort of rant or backhanded insult; instead Springer just sighed, "If you're serious about this..."

**Skywarp + snark**

All of Skywarp's comments and jokes and teasings were suddenly rendered useless by the mere fact that, yes, Thundercracker _was_ getting some regularly now, thankyouverymuch.

**Optimus Prime + amusement**

Optimus Prime never once believed integrating Megatron's former elite into the Autobot ranks was going to be easy but, watching a Wrecker and an Aerialbot draping themselves over the back of one such former Decepticon elite, Optimus Prime couldn't help but think fondly that this was a good start.

**Fireflight - sly**

It all started with Fireflight noting that no one talked to the former-Decepticons, then with Fireflight gushing about the sort of maneuvers the Seekers could do in the air, then with Fireflight saying what an amusing guy Thundercracker could be if others gave him a _chance-_ then he gave Sandstorm a rare, mischievous smile and Sandstorm knew he'd be doing whatever the jet wanted.

**Sandstorm - compromise**

He hadn't tried seducing anyone in so long (he had Fireflight, what could anyone else give him that he couldn't find in Fireflight?) that, for a while Sandstorm thought his technique had failed on him- until one day Thundercracker grabbed him and pulled him into the blue jet's lap in a way couldn't be anything but compromising.

**Thundercracker - guarded**

He tried to ignore the both of them, tried not to show any interest but with Fireflight's bright smiles and earnest curiosity and Sandstorm's curling grins and electric touch and when those two were _together_... was it any wonder that Thundercracker's guard eventually crumbled before them?

**Skywarp, Topspin - kiss and make up**

Skywarp seethed at the scratches on his wing after Topspin had run into him (and it actually was an accident, surprisingly enough) so, with his usual devil grin, the Wrecker asked, "Want me to kiss it better?"

**Ratchet - too old for this**

It was bad enough when he had to worry about Fireflight crashing into things while flying, then he started getting Sandstorm into doing it (because the young perverts just couldn't keep to themselves in the sky) and when _Thundercracker_ started showing up in the medbay for the same reason...

Ratchet shook his head, "I'm getting to old for this."

**Megatron - did not need to see that**

It was habit, really, that had Megatron striding through the doors and was mid-way through an order before he realized Thundercracker was in the middle of doing something very indecent to an Aerialbot (in the control office- it may be a boring duty, but honestly!) and Megatron waited until the two hastily shifted their plating into their proper places before unshielding his optics again.

**Twins - envy**

The twins growled in annoyance, watching the trio's every move all sorts of miffed- how come _they_ didn't get a Seeker to play with?

**Twins, Starscream - think you can figure us out?**

"What's there to figure out," Starscream asked with his hands on his hips, "the only thing the two of you are any good at is fighting, you care only about each other and couldn't give cold slag about anyone else and you see me and my trinemates as shiny new toys that you feel entitled to play with because you think you're tough and pretty- I'm not interested."

**Skywarp, Topspin - low blow**

As Ratchet came stomping at them, Topspin turned to an immensely smug Skywarp and growled out, "That was low."

**Twins, Starscream - persistent**

"I know you two are persistent, but I think you may need to give Starscream a little space- at least until the restraining order expires."

**Skywarp, Topspin - enamored**

It took three mechs to carry Skywarp away (as the rock he was somehow glued to was heavy as all hell) and Topspin cooed over a tube of adhesive, "Who's my new baby? Yes, you are!"

**Optimus Prime, Ratchet - temper**

They watched the twins being chased out of the science lab by several thrown pieces of equipment and Ratchet turned to Optimus Prime with a very serious, "I don't think there's anything wrong with Starscream's temperament at all."

**Sunstreaker, Starscream, Sideswipe - victory is ours**

Starscream refused to say what happened after both twins jumped him to practice their Jet Judo (it did not, in fact, end as previous incidences of jet judo did and Starscream would never, ever admit that he much preferred this new version).

**Topspin, Air Raid, Skywarp - smirking seduction**

After Air Raid had finished explaining, the Wrecker turned to Skywarp with a big, hungry grin, "_That's_ what all that was about..."


	36. A Warm and Tender Devil Soul

Following some time after chapter 34, With All Thy Mercies. The 'poor Octane' storyline continues with a little unintentional mind fucking and some degree of closure.

JML: Well, you know me and humor!

Ianam: Oh, most of these were pretty cracky to me, too. The trick is, though, is making it enjoyable crack XD

Silveriss: Always happy to try and brighten up someone's day!

ShiTiger: You know, I thought that last chapter seemed kind of long myself as I was moving things over, but I think there were the same amount of prompts I normally get on a challenge, so I didn't think to split them up. I'll try to pay more attention to the length of it next time.

Tomorrow: I know what you mean- honestly I'd prefer to have actual chapters as well but the last few months life had sucked my inspiration right out of me. The reason why I started up the monthly challenges was to keep me writing and creative. I figured better to have even simple challenges rather than months of nothing.

* * *

Title: A Warm and Tender Devil Soul  
Fandom: Transformers  
Rating: PG-13  
Characters: Octane, Sandstorm  
Summary: A Decepticon and an Autobot meet in a market. One wants what the other can't give.

With calculations and formulas running through his mind, deciding if the fuel exchange was worth the cost, he could almost forget the presence next to him. It wasn't overt in trying to gain his attention but it wouldn't allow him to simply ignore it, either.

Turning the converter over in his hands, Octane finally said, "Go away."

"I think we need to talk."

"I think we really don't."

"You've been avoiding me."

"I've been busy."

"Not any busier than you've always been. You fail to make contact with me for an information trade for almost a meta-cycle, but you can find the time to volunteer to attempt to siphon energy from an obsolete power plant?"

Putting down the converter, Octane turned to give Sandstorm an incredulous look. "What, are you stalking me now?"

"That's not good business, Octane."

"In case you've gone stupid instead of willfully blind, you know our meetings were never good business for me." He turned and made his way deeper into the market, mindful of his wings. Sandstorm followed, a quiet but insistent presence that made sure Octane knew he was there.

He stopped whenever Octane stopped, moved whenever he moved and was never more than a few paces back. He didn't stray to any other booth, didn't give any products more than a passing glance to store the quality and price in his memory. Part of Octane thrilled at the idea that Sandstorm was there for him and _only_ him, that maybe this was what the Decepticon had wanted and it was finally happening. Octane shoved the idea deep inside and locked it in a shadowy box. He turned on the orange triplechanger.

"Go _away_," he hissed. "In case you can't take a hint: I don't want to deal with you right now. I don't want to deal with you _ever_, okay? Leave me alone and let me get on with my life!"

"I want to talk to you about someone you met."

Octane froze and felt something that always fractured whenever he saw Sandstorm break just a little bit more. He knew it would happen, that Sandstorm never looked for Octane just for the sake of seeing him but it still felt like he'd been betrayed on some level. "Nothing happened," he spat out bitterly, "end of story."

"I want to thank you."

A long silence stretched out between the two, Sandstorm patient, Octane floundering. "_Thank_ me? For what?"

"It's a simple thank you." When the Wrecker stepped in close, Octane felt the universe reduced to only the two of them once more. He could almost fool himself into thinking things were just like it once was so very long ago. "It's not that difficult to believe, is it? I can rent out a little room somewhere and you can do what you want to me." A hand brushed against his arm and Octane couldn't help shivering at the touch, at the low voice that made everything inside of him tighten so painfully. "That's what you want, isn't it?"

That hand settled against Octane's elbow like a jolt that shorted out every thought from his mind except for a hoarse, "Yes."

He didn't pay attention to where they went, he was only focused on Sandstorm. He saw only the way he moved, the way his hips swaggered in a way Octane wanted to put his hands to them and feel them sway. He watched the deliberate, careless line of Sandstorm's arm as he paid for the use of some business's back room and when he looked over his shoulder to give Octane a knowing grin the Decepticon nearly jumped him, not caring who was around them.

His hands fisted and the trek to the back seemed to take decades. They keyed in the temporary code to the room and Sandstorm barely managed to get more than a few steps in, barely managed to turn around before Octane was on him. He pulled Sandstorm tight against his chest, hands pacing desperately across the yellow and orange and black body yielding- _finally yielding_ -to him. Octane's engines ran hot and hard, wanting to feel every inch of the other triplechanger, wanting to have him moaning and begging and whispering Octane's name as he clung back in desperate need.

Octane's hands stilled and the harsh whirling of his fans wasn't from lust or pleasure but out and out frustration. "_Do something_," he hissed against the side of Sandstorm's helmet. "Don't just stand there!"

Sandstorm in turned told him very calmly, very evenly, as though he weren't just being molested, "I said you could do whatever you wanted to me. I didn't say I'd reciprocate."

"No," the Decepticon didn't move away, neither did he make any other movements. "Not like this. I don't want your damned pity or your patronizing. If I have you, it's all of you."

"That's the problem right there." Sandstorm stepped back and Octane's hands fell from his sides. "I can no more give you all of me then I can give it to anyone else. I'm a broken mech, Octane. I've been broken long before we ever even met. _I_ don't even have all of me.

"That's why Fireflight is different- it's why he's important. He doesn't need all of me, he'll accept any part he can touch. He doesn't question, he doesn't presume, he doesn't pressure- he takes what little I'm capable of giving and he's _happy_ with it. That's why, if I could, I'd give him everything." The look he gave Octane was almost apologetic. "It's why I'm willing to give you this as a thank you."

Octane let out a bark of… not so much laughter as it was shock. "This… is perverse. I-It's absurd! I didn't not-kill him so I could get you! I don't even know _why_ I didn't attack him!"

The glow of Sandstorm's optic band was soft and the wistfulness there made Octane want to purge. "Fireflight's good at that, making you want to do things without knowing why."

"Why are you doing this to me? You know how I feel about you, why are you torturing me like this?"

The broken tremble of Octane's voice, of his exhausted expression made Sandstorm jerk back. "I… but this is what you want. It's what you always wanted. To use my body for your own pleasure."

"_No_, it's _not_! You think I'm just like everyone else, don't you? You think I just want to take you any way I can and not give a damn about you? Is that really how you see me? Like the memory of all those others you're trying to leave behind?"

"Isn't that how it is?"

A hand to Sandstorm's wrist and one on his neck had him slammed into a wall, Octane's body pressed flush against the Wrecker's. Tension sang through both, just waiting for a chance to snap.

"Look at you," Octane whispered, optics daring the other to argue, "you're ready to kill me just from this. You can't put yourself in this kind of position anymore, Sandstorm. You've got too much fight in you for that now. You're not the clueless little mech you were when we first met. Even if I were like those others, just wanting to dirty you and ruin you, you wouldn't let me. Your pride wouldn't let me."

Sandstorm shoved him away, finding himself furious. "I'm trying to _thank_ you!"

"I don't want that kind of thanks! You don't even want to thank me like that! You just think you owe me out of some twisted sense of obligation!"

The orange triplechanger stood there, trying to decide on what to say before finally settling on, "You could've really hurt Fireflight."

Internally, Octane winced. "Yeah, well I barely even touched him."

"I don't mean physically. He can take more punishment than you might think," Sandstorm crossed his arms. "I meant… the things you could've said, what you could've told him. You could've told him about… about the kinds of things they used to do to me, or the kinds of scams I pulled or the lives I ruined just to get ahead." His arms dropped and his head tilted down. "But you didn't say anything and I just… I want to thank you for that."

"It's not like he would've listened anyway. He'd rather wait until you wanted to tell him- probably wouldn't believe me." Octane's wings flexed in a shrug. "Not my place to tell him. He knows about your habits and he's still sticking with you. And you…" His hand waved wordlessly at Sandstorm. "You're different from who you used to be because of him. If I told him it'd sound like jealous gossip from the ex that never was. He deserves to hear it from you."

Red optics watched him in surprise. "Did you… was that… approval? From you?"

Annoyance shot through the Decepticon. "You know what, just- forget it, okay?"

"Hey, I didn't mean-"

"No, you didn't. I overestimated how much you knew I cared because it's obvious- now anyway –that you really don't get it at all." Octane stepped up to Sandstorm, expression tight and blank and serious. "I love you. And I'm sorry for how things turned out and if I were smarter from the beginning then none of this-" he cut the rest of that off between his denta. "I care about you," he amended, "deeply. I could no more force myself on you than you could with Fireflight."

The Autobot's optic band widened, brightening slightly. "I understand."

"Do you?"

"Yeah. I really do." Sandstorm's hands were on his hips, just carefully watching the other triplechanger. "What do you plan on doing now?"

"I… need to get away from you. Figure out my life, get over things." He gave a weak little smile. "I really can't pretend to do the professional thing with you anymore. It really just…"

"I know. I get it." Suddenly the lower half of Sandstorm's battlemask slid away and the soft curve of a mouth was there. The memory of Sandstorm, with his unfettered emotions and easy, bright smiles came on Octane- memories he'd almost forgotten, that made him ache so much because the Sandstorm of then- the one he'd first fallen in love with –was almost alien to the one he was faced with now. "I'm not going to try to track you down or anything, you gotta figure things out on your own. You think you ever wanna do business again, though, you know how to contact me."

Octane couldn't look away from the way Sandstorm's mouth formed around each syllable. "Y-Yeah."

"Octane."

"Huh?"

"Even with everything that happened with you and me, the things that happened…" his mouth twisted up and Octane could almost see his thoughts running through him. "No matter what else I might feel about you," Sandstorm said eventually, "I know you're a decent sort. Even after what was done, I know you're not a bad guy."

"I…"

"So I'm serious," he stepped up, just outside of Octane's personal space. "As an apology and as a thank you, tell me what you'd like me to do for you."

His mind went numb for a moment. "Smile. I want to see you smile one last time."

Sandstorm's mouth parted slightly, surprised at the request. Then- slowly, sweetly –it curved into a warm, beautiful smile that captivated Octane and made him recall days they could never go back to.

A hand against his arm made the Decepticon jump slightly. "I wish you the best." Sandstorm told him, battlemask closing up over his smile again, but Octane could remember it, could see it in the way it curved his optic band. The Wrecker moved out of the room, leaving the other there to think about what he'd missed and what he'd just given up and what he'd have to do to pick his life back up.

Oddly, Octane found he felt better than he had in a while.


	37. Under Clearer Skies

Follows chapter 34, With All Thy Mercies and 36, A Warm and Tender Devil Soul. The last of the 'poor Octane' storyline. I also suggest you take a look at Wills's short piece entitled 'Days Long Past (under the name 'haernmouse' on livejournal and 'lightningmouse' on ff net) which takes place far into the future of the storyline of these three pieces.

Robin Moto: While I don't doubt Fireflight would have nothing but good intentions when it comes to Octane, I'd say that- until Octane gets himself together again -Fireflight's presence would just make things harder on the 'con.

Tiamat: What the Wreckers and Fireflight did for Sandstorm was really amazing, and the fact that they had the patience and such a capacity to trust him when he wouldn't with them... It's a devotion he couldn't help but succumb to because while his manipulative, distrusting personality is a defense, it's not who he is. And I, for one, am glad that they saw through it.

Piole: Thank you, I'm always happy to hear that I can bring something new to these chapters and getting readers to empathize with the characters is always a success in my book. Something good will happen to Octane in the future. I don't know what it is, but I really want him to have something good.

* * *

Title: Under Clearer Skies  
Fandom: Transformers  
Rating: PG-13  
Characters: Octane, Smokescreen  
Summary: A Decepticon and an Autobot meet in a bar. One remembers what the other wants to forget.

The light was a dim filter through the bar- dingy at its source and muddy where the shadows gathered thick below chairs and tables. None of the patrons spoke above a mumble and even that was only to the bartender. Each pretended everyone else didn't exist, gazes passing sightlessly over faction symbols. It was a place where one went to be alone from the world.

Which was why Octane didn't expect someone to sit at his elbow and say, "So here's where you went off to."

The cables at the base of his wings twitched. "Smokescreen," he gritted back, "can't say I'm glad to see you right now."

"Mmm, that's a pity," Smokescreen raised a finger to the bartender who mutely grabbed a container of energon. It was plopped down in front of the Autobot but the bartender made no motion to remove his hand until Smokescreen paid up. "It's been a while since you've been in contact with any of our mutual associates."

"I'm pulling out of the information schtick. I'm sticking to straight fuel supply."

"Really?" Smokescreen sipped at his energon, made a face and continued sipping anyway. "Your boss okay with that?"

The triplechanger gave a humorless smile. "I'm a better transporter than I am an informer. 'Sides, you know why I went into that business in the first place."

His answering smile was soft and sympathetic. "I know. Heard you gave up on him, too."

The word made Octane's internals twist up. It sounded like all that time, all that effort, all the pain he endured didn't mean anything in the end. And maybe they didn't, but Octane didn't want to believe it was all a waste. He took a gulp of his energon. The impure compounds gave it a sharp, bitter taste. The parallel wasn't lost to him. "Wasn't doing me any good."

"That took a lot of courage, you know. Being able to recognize that and make yourself step back from it."

Octane grunted in reply.

"You never told him."

His hand twitched over his container. "Told him what?"

"What happened."

His internals went cold. "What happened?"

In response, Smokescreen shook his head. "Lay off, Octane- I only worked down the block from him back then. One day he's telling me all about you and this grand idea you had and how you only had one more fuel run to do before you had the credits for the two of you to move to Nova Cronum, then all of the sudden he can't remember who you are? Or why he'd want to leave Stanix in the first place? And you think I wouldn't figure out what happened?"

Octane's hands shook. He clamped them tight on the bar top, hoping Smokescreen couldn't see him trembling, but the Autobot didn't have to. "What difference would it have made," he asked bitterly. "If I told him about it, so what? It wouldn't have changed anything." Octane slouched down, trying to find refuge from the memory he desperately didn't want. "Telling him only would've upset him anyway."

At his elbow Smokescreen waited patiently, watched carefully.

"You know how he gets when someone brings up basically _anything_ that has to do with his past, especially about things he'd forgotten. Not like you could blame him- who'd want to be reminded of all the chunks of their life being wiped from their memory without their consent? I don't know how anyone could stand knowing that- I don't know how _you_ can stand it."

Smokescreen said nothing.

The half-empty container of energon swirled, throwing little prisms of light against the bar top. Octane said, weight heavy on his arms. "It wouldn't have changed anything if I told him. He wouldn't be able to remember any of it, it'd just be another part of his life stolen from him forever." He laughed bitterly. "It'd be kinder if I never told him."

Then all those memories, all the love and hope and time the two had shared together would be a memory only Octane could keep. Same with the pain and fury and hopelessness of having it all taken away. The betrayal of going up to the person he loved and not being remembered in the slightest, of offering to start a new life somewhere else and being asked 'why'. "He doesn't need that."

"He knows."

Octane's head jerked around. "What?"

"He knows. I told him."

Smokescreen let out a yelp of pain, suddenly jerked sideways by Octane yanking on a doorwing. "You _told_ him?"

One of the Autobots in the back was suddenly watching them very closely, on the verge of getting up. "Do you _mind_?" Smokescreen hissed at the Decepticon. Numbly, Octane's hand opened and Smokescreen twisted a bit, flexing the doorwing to make sure it wasn't damaged. He took that time to make optic contact with the other Autobot, silently communicating that he needed no help. "Yes," he told Octane stiffly, "I told him. Because he knew he was missing something. You're not a bad actor or liar, Octane, but against pros you're painfully obvious."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't even realize all the times you slipped up, do you?" A half grin was on Smokescreen's lips, turning his mouth into an incredulous curve. "The memory of your first meeting with him is completely different from his. You remember him when he still worked as a host, when Straigthaway was still wiping his memory to keep him naïve and new and sane. He remembers you long after the den was razed to the ground and he struck out on his own. After he became aware and bitter and manipulative. And what do you do? You make little mentions of how he used to smile and laugh and before his upgrades made him so much larger.

"You know when Straightaway had his memories of you wiped off, she had the specialist put up a block that would keep him from developing any real relationship with you. I know you know that because she wanted to make sure you knew about it. And yet, up you come and Sandstorm didn't even have to try and seduce you because he knew you were- somehow –in love with him before the two of you even met. And you really think he wouldn't realize he was missing something important?"

Octane's hands curled into fists that trembled, expression raw. "Then… why? Why didn't he ever tell me he knew?"

"Because it wouldn't change anything, would it? He still can't remember those times and he can't force himself to feel anything for you."

"Then… all those times… when he-"

"He asked me after he settled into the Wreckers- after he learned how to care about someone other than himself again." Smokescreen turned away from the triplechanger, gaze distant and full of angry memories that bore into the bartop. "He told me that, even if he wanted to _try_ fighting that reprogramming… every time he thought of you he felt nothing. Not even distaste. To him, your existence doesn't matter and the more he tried to fight it the angrier he got. At Straightaway, at the specialist, at himself… And he felt guilty because he couldn't care about you. He didn't say anything because he thought it would be kinder if you didn't know."

"Then why are you telling me now?"

"Because I want you to know, even though he can't care about you, even if you can't have a relationship with him the way you want to, he does know what kind of mech you are. He knows you won't force yourself on him, that you won't manipulate things to get your way. When it comes to him, he knows that you're trustworthy and caring."

Octane's expression was pensive. "Do you even know how he tried to thank me?"

"I know," came the mild answer. "Just because he knows you're not exactly like the others, the concept of reciprocated love is still new to him. He knew you wanted him willingly, so he went to you willingly. He just didn't get it also meant you wanted him to want you back.

"Now that he knows how much you do care… it really frustrates him because he can't feel anything for you, no matter how hard he tries." Smokescreen reached out and squeezed at Octane's hand. "It's really unfair, isn't it? Our lives were just one person after another, screwing us over. Kind of ironic that the war actually saved us."

The Decepticon said nothing, just squeezed Smokescreen's hand before slipping his own away.

"I just gotta wonder- and I don't mean to be cruel but…" the blue and red mech cycled air through his systems, "do you really love Sandstorm, or were you just trying to make up for what happened?"

Octane spluttered. "Make- what-"

"I'm serious. Is it love or guilt? Don't get me wrong- I know you loved Sandstorm when you two first met, but he's nothing like the Sandstorm he is now and neither of them were what he was like when _he_ remembers first meeting you. Three different Sandstorms, Octane. Do you really love them all?"

"The first one, absolutely." Still did love him. "The second… No. I hated the second one, there was nothing in the second one that was anything like who he was and the third…"

Suddenly Octane's shoulders slumped and he looked at Smokescreen, coming to a realization that seemed to shake his entire world. "He's not coming back, is he? The Sandstorm I fell in love with. There's no way to get him back."

"No."

He let out a gasp or a sob that was almost like Octane's spark breaking if not for the sound of relief deep within. "I spent… spent so long, wished so hard, wanted so… so _badly_ to save him, t-to turn him back to the Sandstorm I remembered…"

"You're in love with the memory of him."

"And I can't ever get him back." He cradled his head in his hands, a little bit of hysterical laughter bubbling in his vocalizer. "He's changed too much and I didn't want to believe that. All that wasted time because I didn't want to believe he was gone… I had my one chance to save him, to give him a better life and I messed it up because I didn't think things through, I didn't think about how much Straightaway wouldn't give him up and I didn't want to believe that…"

Smokescreen reached out and took Octane's hand again. This time he wasn't going to let go. "It's hardly your fault she went to such extremes. Maybe you should've known and kept it all a secret, but she would've found somehow. Even if you couldn't help him then, he has a new life now and it's changed him in ways I was afraid to hope for."

"I know." And this smile, through the pain and grief, had an edge of relief. "His team really saved him. And Fireflight… Fireflight's everything to him, isn't he?"

"He really is."

Though his grip shook, Octane's hand still clenched tight at Smokescreen's fingers. "I'm not what he needs, not anymore. Might never have been."

"You're someone he can trust. And as this is Sandstorm, that is not insignificant."

They sat for some time, neither moving, with their hands wrapped around each other's. They sat until Octane stopped trembling, until he accepted that this was what his life had become and he felt he could speak without breaking down.

"Maybe one day," his tone was a little rough along the edges, "maybe then I'll…"

"Don't push yourself. Just let what happens happen. If you can't, he understands. If you can, I'm sure he'll look forward to it."

Octane nodded, revving his internals to get the thick feeling out of his vocalizer. "So," he tried to sound nonchalant and ended up being absolutely nothing but obvious and awkward, "you'll keep an optic on him?"

"I'll look after him," Smokescreen assured with smile. "I'll try to keep him from messing this thing up entirely but… well…"

"I know." But Sandstorm had someone looking out for him- had several someones looking out for him and every single one of them could do a much better job than Octane ever could. He downed the last of his energon. "Thanks."

Smokescreen's hand squeezed his one last time and the smile he gave Octane assured him that this really was the right thing to do. "You're a good mech, Octane."

"For a Decepticon?"

"For anyone. You ever need to talk, give me a call. I'll see if I can't free myself up for you."

"Thanks, Smokescreen. I mean it." And he truly did.

He left the bar and stood out in the street, looking up at the empty sky. His spark still weighed heavy inside of him, emotions knotted and afraid to be released. But Octane knew his whole life lay out before him. He didn't know how long it would take- perhaps even an eternity –but he took his first step on that road, no longer chasing after shadows and memories. He took his second step and hoped, somehow, that he would not falter.


	38. Vignette Challenge

Haha, uh, wow. So it took me nearly a month to do this challenge and it's not like it was hard or even had (relatively) that many to do. Part of that was my being sick for a couple weeks, another part is a testament to how much work I have for school. So, basically, due to time and creativity crunch, I'm going to be putting a hold to my writing for right now. There may be sporadic updates, but for now I'm not even going to be doing the monthly challenges. Sorry for this, but I'm just not feeling any real quality with my work in either writing or art right now.

Robin Moto: Flight really is good about showing kindness to others. It's almost like good timing follows him around, waiting for the moment he's about to do something nice to someone that really needs it before making sure that it's the exact right time that they really DO need that act of kindness. If that made any sense XD

Silveriss: Well, I'd like to think it's because of my ability to pull out emotions from readers, but I can't really give an unbias opinion of my own work. So I'm glad you felt something for the poor guy and I hope things start looking up for you (snugs)

* * *

Title: Vignette Challenge  
Fandom: Transformers G1, two (technically three) movie-verse, two G1 cartoon verse  
Rating: PG

**cartoon!Skyfire** (pre-series)

"-to reach escape velocity when force of gravity is 'n'-"

"What are you doing?"

"Studying."

"I can see that. Why are you studying?"

"Because it's something I should know about."

He let air gust out of his vents, so put upon by his roommate's diligence. "Studying is all you ever do."

"Well it's important."

"I don't doubt that, but it's not like it's the only thing out there."

Disbelieving optics lifted from the datapap, eying skeptically, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that one simply cannot _just_ study the mechanics of something as complex as breaking atmosphere."

"If you're implying what I think you're implying you can stop right there. We're not authorized for that kind of flying yet."

"If we don't put theory into practical application, how else are we to master such a high level of skill?" Skyfire gave his roommate a mischievous grin. "C'mon, Starscream- where's your sense of adventure?

**cartoon!Prowl**

His mind swirled, thoughts streaming one after another. Probability, calculations, predictions and thousands of options all meshed together and flowed through his battle computer in glowing lines that pulsed and fluttered as his attention turned to each. Every possibility gave its own solution- a possible resolution that did not always tip in his favor but was just as important to consider, gave him patterns to watch for as he gauged and considered. He weighed each line of action carefully, thoughtfully, before committing to his next move.

Though he couldn't help that one thought that prevailed through all the planning and considering and his asking Prim if he had any threes. The one that wondered how Carly convinced the Ark officers to play Go Fish to begin with.

**movie!Frenzy** (1)

Three sets of limbs scrambled over the ground, skittering around the rubble of what had once been a command bunker.

"S-Soundwa-wa-wave," a jittering voice muttered, as skittish and uneven as the movements that had him crawling around like a manic arachnid, "Soun-dwav-v-v-ve."

Somewhere over him, larger mechs towered. "Well?" One demanded brusquely. "Have you located him yet?"

"N-n-no." He skittered more, zigzagging aimlessly over broken metal. "Can't l-l-locate. Soundwa-ave's signallostsignalgonesignaln-not-not there. Signal gone. Sound-d-wave gone, SoundwavedeadRumbledeadalldeadallgone-"

"Great," one moved to swat at the symbiote but Frenzy ducked under the claw and scrambled somewhere else. "With Soundwave dead, the little slagger's gone stupid."

"Not stupid, just unchecked," the first corrected without emotion. "Without Soundwave's energy signature to act as a regulator, Frenzy's processors are unbalanced and unstreamed."

"Deadalldeadallgonenomoreallalone," the larger mechs watched Frenzy in various degrees of disgust, annoyance and perhaps a light or two of pity. "Goneallgone. S-Soundwave, Rumb-b-ble, Ravag-ge, signalgone-gone. Las-s-s-er-rbeak, Buzz-z-saw, signal g-g-gone. Allgonenoneleft."

They clustered around Starscream who merely stared down at the symbiote who curled in on himself in a spiny ball. "Now what do we do?"

"We search for the AllSpark and Megatron," the distaste was in the back of his words as they always lurked, "and save our home. We have tentative information on its location. Someone take Frenzy- he may be of some use to our cause yet."

A black claw encircled the curled minicon and Barricade, knowing his own function could benefit from this, was beginning to prepare himself to take in the symbiote. "Come, Frenzy. We're moving out."

**movie!Frenzy** (2- i just came up with a better execution, imho, after i put the first one up)

_-gonegoneallgone-_

"S-Soundwa-wa-wave. Soun-dwav-v-v-ve."

_-deadgoneallgoneallalone-_

Three sets of limbs scrabbled over the ground, skittering around the rubble of what had once been a command bunker.

_-RavagegoneRumblegoneallgone-_

"So-oundwa-a-ave," the plaintive call was jittery, as skittish and uneven as the symbiote's movements.

_-alldeadgonenomoreallalone-_

Frenzy fractious thoughts scattered, like crumpled rust across a black zone- empty, lifeless, devoid of everything. They spun through him endlessly, unchecked and unbalanced without Soundwave's constant presence, without his energy signature blazingly obvious in Frenzy's mind to control and smooth out the thoughts that wouldn't stop, the sensors that kept sensing, the information that streamed and grew and coalesced and built and funneled into his processors.

"S-S-S-oun-nd-wa-a-ve!"

_-gonegonedeadalone-_

Frenzy curled into a ball, unable to stop his own thoughts without Soundwave there. Unable to fit into his haven that blocked the constant stream of information where he pressed against the cool pulsing of a familiar spark and the feel of his fellow symbiotes around him.

_-LaserbeakgoneBuzzsawgoneRatbatgone-_

He curled and shook and his sensors streamed data of the debris he was crouched over- the age and molecular make-up and the depth and the sound it made as he trembled against it.

_-Soundwavegone-_

They were gone and he was all alone and he had no place to go, no one to protect him from the thoughts that spun him about until he could no long think, just heard everything cascading about his processors.

He was scooped up and something engulfed him, a compartment sliding over him and blocking out the world. His sensors still whirled, taking note of every little thing, of every spike of energy and electricity, of the hum and vibrations around him that fell into a steady pattern. And eventually his sensors fell into that same pattern, the rhythm of it soothing his frantic thoughts.

_-BarricadenotSoundwavenotSoundwavebutissafeisgood-_

The pulsing of a spark was at his back and Frenzy cycled his internal workings to match. After some time he managed to fall into recharge with the thoughts _notSoundwavebutsafe_ chanting through him.

**movie!Starscream**

He bobbed in submission, I understand, Lord Megatron." Keeping his head respectfully low, Starscream shuffled backwards, out of the room. When the door closed, his subservient expression twisted into a snarl and- with his limbs and armor cutting the air in sharp, angry movements -he swept down the hall with palpable distaste.

And no one else understood, did they? No one did, all blinded and sycophantic idiots and every single one of them no longer could see just what it was they were fighting for anymore.

Fools with no cause, just jockeying for position and Starscream himself was the most under threat from those hoping to usurp his position and from the distrust of Megatron himself.

His mental capacities are deteriorating at a frightening pace, Starscream decided. Megatron no longer sees logic, just conquest. This war has consumed him as much as it has our world.

But I will make a stand. I will hold to our convictions where so many have tossed them aside in favor of personal gain. I'll take the AllSpark out from under Megatron and bring an end to this senless war. All that will stand in my way in restoring Cybertron shall join him in the beyond.

**IDW!Ultra Magnus**

"You can't do this!"

The fact that he is, in fact, doing this doesn't need to be said.

"Have your logic circuits gone corrupt? I'm just like you are! Let me out of here!"

In the same quiet effeciency, he checks the locks to ensure the prisoner is secured.

"Ultra Magnus! I know you can hear me! Let me out, damn you! Do you even realize what you're doing?"

Of course he does. He chose to do this, after all.

"I'm an _Autobot_- same as you! How can you arrest me like this?"

This time the prisoner is graced with Ultra Magnus's frown, with his unwavering, uncompromising voice. "A faction symbol doesn't change who you are, nor does it make you any more right. There are still laws that we all must abide by, Repugnus. Laws that no faction is above. You have broken those laws and as an officer and as an Autobot, I will ensure that you will pay for your crimes."

The red badge on his shoulders aren't a symbol of allegiance- not for him. It's a reminder to be just and fair because the law cares not for sides and neither can he.

**Red Alert**

"Don't be upset, Red."

"Who's upset?"

"You. Yer hidin' after all."

"What makes you think that?"

"The fact I can only see yer legs?"

Red Alert grunted to himself, reconnecting cables to new drive. He wasn't, by any stretch of his title, a technician but he knew his way around a computer's internals. "I _am_ working, Inferno. I will not let someone's ill-spoken comments prevent me from doing my duty just because it appears that I'm hiding."

"Well they shouldn't be sayin' those kinda things at all!" Inferno's tone was bitter and frustrated. "They just don't get ya and not a damn one of 'em even try to understand. If you, I dunno, if you did somethin', stood up to 'em-"

"Then what?" Red Alert rolled himself out from under the computer, propping himself up on his elbows to look at the larger mech. "What difference would it make if I defended myself or not? They don't care to understand what it is I do or why I am how I am and I don't particularly feel the need to explain myself to them. Their personal attitude has little to no effect on my duty. So if they're so self-conscious that making snide comments of others make them feel better about themselves, then let them. I have more important things to do than dealing with them."

"I just..." he trailed off lamely. Red Alert, taking pity on him, reached out to pat Inferno's shin.

"I have an understanding with those that matter. I don't need it from anyone else."

**Jazz**

He sits at a table towards the back and it's almost like no one notices him. Then he puts his peds up on the table and stretches out and suddenly a group of mechs cluster about him, talking, joking, gossiping and none of them think about wondering when he came in, how no one saw him sit down or that he only seems to be around when he wants others to see that he's around. And he listens more than he talks and when he talks its carefully worded to encourage others to answer things unasked, to expand on one point or another and no one ever notices these things, just that he's always so friendly and open and he's always ready with a smile and warm advice.

No one ever notices that these are the things he wants them to notice.

**Optimus Prime**

He looked at the reports and he knew what they were saying but he didn't understand any of it. He wasn't built for this, he didn't know anything about military maneuvers or tactics- how could he have been put in this kind of position.

He poured over the reports, combing through each of them and somehow, when he wasn't looking, an entirely new stack of them suddenly appeared on his desk and he knew he wouldn't be able to understand any of those, either. Why was he chosen to be Prime? Why did the council think he could be put in charge of the military? To have everyone's lives ultimately in his hands?

He couldn't do this. He _couldn't_. Optimus Prime held his head in his hands, persuading himself that just running away would only make things worse.

He decided, finally, that if he couldn't do things their way, he'd do it his. "Prowl," he called into an open comlink, "I want you and all the others heads in the briefing room in one cycle. I believe something needs to be clarified."

He had no idea what he was doing and he'd make sure they knew it. And if he didn't know, he'd make damn sure those around him could be trusted to walk him through it all.

**Beachcomber**

He sat on the cliffside road, quietly contemplating his new assignment and the new planet it brought him to. He watched the ocean far into the distance over the forest tops and the city that separated him from the horizon. He didn't know what to think of Earth, not even after looking through all the pertinent reports and watching the video brief given to him and all the other Autobots that were to be stationed on the planet, but that didn't quell the apprehension in his processors.

It was something about the place, something he couldn't exactly understand but it made him restless. It made him so utterly frustrated in a way he could figure out. He liked the planet- he really did, so young and pure and _natural_ in a way he didn't think Cybertron ever was -but something about his being there. Not just him, of course, but all of them- Autobot and Decepticon. Their presence on this place almost angered him and he didn't know why.

There was just so much here, so much to see and explore and discover, so many things that were foreign to Cybertronians and he didn't know why it all bothered him. The world was in a constant state of flux, every moment there'd be something new, something suddenly there that hadn't been before and, for the scout, it was _exciting_.

But no one else thought that, did they? So few others bothered to look, thought that mechs like him were an oddity. They didn't care about the wonders around them, couldn't appreciate what their own planet couldn't ever be. They just couldn't understand why he loved to go out and see what he could find. To see what new wonder the world was waiting to show him.

"Hey, there you are!" Hound called as he drove up, rolling to stop next to the small buggy. "Didn't see you after your shift and I was wondering-"

"Beachcomber."

"What?"

"That's what I want my designation with the humans to be," he said definitively, "Beachcomber."

**Air Raid** (partly inspired by a conversation with Azure)

His senses spun wildly, trying to keep up with what was happening, where he was, who was beating on him this time. Information cascaded dizzingly through Air Raid's processors and his hands flew feebly in the air, trying to catch his balance as someone slammed him around again.

He didn't know what he did this time to get into another fight- he never knew why his classmates kept attacking him, he didn't know what to do to make them leave him alone and with their fists and pedes smashing into him it was all Air Raid could do to curl into a ball and hope they'd stop.

"You think you're so much better than us, don't you?" They sneered over him. "Always showing off and making the rest of us look bad..."

Hands were on his wings, wrenching at the plating. "We'll make it so you'll never fly again."

Something snapped. Inside, something snapped and then Air Raid was just a wild, indiscriminate blur. He fought like a crazed being, no regard for who or what he hit, for his own safety, just fought and hit and attacked and snarled and swore.

He stopped swinging when he stopped hitting things, arms spinning wildly through the air and the other jets in his wing scrambled back. Their expressions were wary, shocked, afraid. "Forget it," they said to each other, "he's crazy. Forget him."

Air Raid stood trembling, his mouth pulled into an uneven, unbalanced wild grin. They were afraid of crazy, he realized. Alright then. He'll give them crazy.

**Silverbolt** (er... ended up being more of an Aerialbot vignette, opps)

He was a flier that couldn't fly.

Well, not true. He could fly, he just didn't enjoy it. Not the way a flier was know for, not the way they _should_. But Silverbolt couldn't help it, it was simply the way he was. He was jealous, of course, of the way his wingmates loved the sky and worshiped the wind. He knew they did because he felt it whenever they merged and, for a while, Silverbolt worried that his fear of heights would pervert and distort the joy that they felt. And that, more than anything else, made him hate this fear of his all the more.

What he didn't get, not until Skydive had sat him down and explained to him, was it was _because_ of Silverbolt's fear the others loved as fiercely as they did. It was why Fireflight was always captivated by every little thing and Air Raid did such daring stunts, it was why Slingshot pushed himself to the limit every time and Skydive obsessed over air currents. Because they couldn't understand Silverbolt's fear even as they accepted it. So they loved and they lived and they shared that with Silverbolt and hope that, if he couldn't love the sky the same way they did, he could at least know the depths of their own passions, a passion they wanted to share with him.

Silverbolt was afraid to fly, but he loved what made his wingmates happy.

**Seaspray **(note: not a comment from the author...)

"Seaspray," the minibot turned at the sound of his name to Prowl approaching him, a frown turning down the edges of his mouth, "I've just hard of a series of incidence happening at a fishing company."

"Yes?"

"It appears that their nets keep getting torn and crabbing and lobster ships further up north have also been losing their traps."

Seaspray just sat patiently.

Wanting an answer before jumping to any accusations, Prowl asked, "Do you have something to report that you neglected to earlier?"

"No, sir."

"There was no unusual activity that you recorded."

"No, sir."

"Do you know who is responsible for these incidences?"

Seaspray hesitated, knowing the 2IC could not only see through most lies but also the fact Seaspray was not a very convincing liar to begin with. Prowl's optics narrowed.

"This is a very serious offense, Seaspray. These are the livelihoods of the humans you're interfering with. This affects their economy, individuals and companies, their families and the ability to feed others worldwide."

Seaspray's hands clenched against his legs. He didn't say that it was barbaric the way humans treated the other species of their planet. Harvesting defenseless creatures en mass, breeding and raising sentient beings that have just as much a right to live, just to kill and eat them in their prime. It disgusted him. It was very much like, to Seaspray's perception, a Decepticon act.

Instead he looked away and muttered, "It won't happen again." And that made him feel like an accomplice to the slaughter.

**Mirage**

The scientists and engineers babbled on around him and the medical staff stayed politely out of the way, watching everything with a critical, cynical gaze. Mirage did nothing, said nothing, just waited patiently for the process to begin. Wordless thoughts raced through his head but he sat poised and stoic.

He knew the potential problems that might arise from this procedure, he knew that it was still very much in the experimental stage, but Mirage had volunteered all the same. Just as he had volunteered to fill the slot in Special Ops. What was there left for him to lose, after all? What was his life worth when he had nothing to his name, now? Nothing but his skill and his body and his mind that would be put on the line because there was no longer anywhere else for them to be.

It's no different, he thought ironically, what I'll be doing now that with what I did with turbo-foxes. Just a hunter of a different sport.

Mirage looked up and saw, leaning deceptively casually against the bulkhead, Jazz looking straight back at him. His lips were turned in an easy grin but his optics were intense behind the visor, looking for any sign of worry or apprehension in the blue mech. Mirage offlined his optics and tilted his head back and the technicians gathered to begin the processes of equipping the cloaking device. Mirage's body tingled as his last conscious thought faded, anxious for the moment he'd be a walking non-existence.

**Wreckers-verse!Octane** (note: takes place after Sandstorm's memory of him had been wiped)

It was a sorry mess of a mech- could barely even be called a mech if he was honest about it all. Just a sad sack of wasted material face-down in his arms and curled around empty container after empty container of what passed for high-grade in this dump.

A nudge got him a disgruntled mumble. A second got him a quavering growl of an engine. A third got him an irate "_Slag off!_"

"My brother, you seem to be in a sorry state."

"'M not yer brother 'n don't give cold slag 'bout what yer sellin'."

"I'm not selling anything. Just wondering what it is that would bring someone as low as you seem to be."

"Whadda you care?"

"Because it seems to me that you've been a victim to the same things that's abused and broken so many countless others for far too long. That's what happened, isn't it? Someone with power, someone with privilege took advantage of your hard work and your efforts and shattered the things you broke your struts to gain. Am I wrong?"

The mech stirred, sullen and quiet and whispered, "No," into the dirty tabletop.

"Didn't care, did they? Or- worse yet -took joy in reducing you to this. Taking your pride and your respect and destroying it under them just to make themselves feel powerful. And all for what? Would it have really destroyed everything to give you just one concession?"

"Damn right!" The mech suddenly shouted, pounding his fists against the table, engine in a roar. "All she cares about are credits! It doesn't matter to her who she steps on to get them- what lives she ruins! All that planning, all work- I was so close, _we_ were so close and then she pulls it all out from under me at the last moment and now what do I have? _Nothing_! She's laughing at me now, I know it and I might as well just go off and get myself slagged now and-" his blathering cut off abruptly, optics muddily focused on who was sitting across from him. "You... You're...!"

Megatron smiled slowly. "I think we may be able to help each other. Judging from your appearance, you're a tanker, correct? The privileged don't know how to appreciate the work the likes you and I put in, do they? But we can show them just what it is we can do."

**Wreckers-verse!Smokescreen**

"Heard you were getting promoted! Congratulation!"

_Sycophantic, spent all last deca-cycle talking behind my back, trying to weasel into my good graces now. Untrustworthy, but easy to lead on._

Smokescreen smiled back congenially, ironically, "Thank you.

"You've been doing our unit proud, Smokescreen. I'll be sure to put in a good word with command."

_Greedy, always looking for an easy score and a way to make himself look good to the higher ups. Easy to manipulate._

"You're too kind to me," he replied and not-so-subtly made funds disappear into the officer's pocket.

"I've heard good things about you. I'm certainly looking forward to seeing you in action."

_Clever but is obviously far more interested in getting his hands on me. May have to work carefully around him, but can easily be put in a position where he's no threat to me._

He smiled back, slow and sensual and let his optics shine in a way that had once made him such a popular attraction in Stanix. "I'll do my best to please," Smokescreen purred.

"I'm sure you'll be a valuable asset to our operation."

_Distrusting and very perceptive. Will be difficult to manipulate but is wary of everyone. Can manipulate those around her to work in my favor._

He nodded, his bearing and manners impecable. "I'll help in any way I can."

Smokescreen hadn't meant to go through the ranks, not like this anyway. He had hoped- even as he knew it was naive -that joining the Autobots would put an end to using certain identification programs, to not be catagorizing and probing for ways to use others to his advantage. That he wouldn't look at those he worked with and saw nothing but easy marks. But their weaknesses were so blatant, their imprefections so glaring and greed palpable that Smokescreen could stop himself.

"So you are to be the new diversionary expert on my tactical team, correct? I am your immedeate superior, Prowl. This is Jazz, head of Special Ops. You will likely be working closely with his 'bots as well. Welcome aboard."

Smokescreen looked between the two black and white mechs, one smiling and congenial, the other stoic and patient and Smokescreen realized that he couldn't read either of them. He didn't know what they were after, didn't know what they wanted and, for the life of him, couldn't sense either appraising him.

He smiled bright at them, relief in the hinges of his doorwings, "I look forward to working with both of you," he told them happily, truthfully.


	39. Struggle On

Almost two months. That's... well, I guess it's not too bad considering the occasional easy days I've been getting this semester. Anyway, I decided- because I was not enjoy my stunted creativity (which was affecting even my art, definitely not a good thing) -to try something easy. On livejournal is a challenge community (one of many) called 10 whores that allows you to do a mere 10 simple prompts. The trick is, while you use one character for all ten challenges, the second character has to be different for each prompt. Deciding to take this as a low-pressure way to stimulate my creativity I decided to let people on my writing journal choose the characters for each prompt for me. Here's the first of the ten (though who knows when i'll get to the rest of them).

* * *

Title: Struggle On  
Fandom: Transformers  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Springer, Perceptor, Kup  
Prompt: Perceptor + head in the clouds  
Summary: Spoilers for All Hail Megatron, specifically 5, 6 and 8. In our moments of greatest weakness, the strongest of bonds will form.

Ratchet said Perceptor would be fine. The dart merely disrupted his neural connections and, since it hit direct cabling instead of armor, the effects were immediate. "He may be a little scrambled in the head when he comes to," the medic said in that rough-gentle way that was his alone, "but his systems just need to sort themselves out and he'll be fine."

No lasting damage. The thought made Springer's fans growl, sitting next to the recharging body of the scientist-turned-sniper. None of this was supposed to be lasting but it all was. Factions, the war, Cybertron and each one of them fracturing one after another.

* * *

_ "Springer!"_

"Springer- are you okay?"

"What happened?"

"I… I dunno…" he shakes his head, trying to get things working out straight again. "I tried… I…" The triplechanger falls silent, looking up past the concerned faceplates around him, up at the bridge he was supposed to be surveying from.

"How'd you fall so short? I've seen you jump things twice that distance."

He winces, more at the statement than any pains as he stands. "It's fine just… telemetry got messed up."

"By 300 meters? Springer, that's more than a mere miscalculation."

"I'm fine! Just gimme a moment to sort things out!" And it's more than anger coloring his tone- there's also fear. Because he knows something isn't right with him, something hasn't been right with him and he's not certain of his feet anymore and now he can't even pinpoint how far the top of the bridge is.

"I believe," the words are soft and cultured and breaks through the murmurs of concern better than any boisterous tone, "the backlash Springer endured while bonded to Trion's defenses was far more sever than previous diagnostics revealed."

* * *

"Damn nosy scientist," there was no malice in Springer's words. His misplaced fury had burned itself out long ago and in its place was left a hollow mech who only felt one thing now: the need to survive. It's not like he could really blame Perceptor- how long, really, did he think he would've been able to keep such a disability hidden?

* * *

_ "Springer. Transform."_

Everything in his head just sort of stutters and falls silent. "I… what?"

"Transform into aerial mode," Kup says. He's stern and solid but never judgmental. "Fly up to that bridge."

"B-But," Springer's processes are racing in a frantic pace, "my blades are too loud and I'll be too visible. I might bring the Swarm on us-"

"Then we'll deal with that if it happens." With unconscious dexterity Kup swings the plug from one side of his mouth to the other. "Springer," and though his tone is low the hush around them still lets the words carry around their bedraggled group, "if we're going to survive I need to know what everyone is capable of. I need to know if you can fly."

A cold flush ices through the triplechanger's systems and everyone takes a step back. Kup stands there, patiently waiting and Springer knows he has no choice in the matter. He transforms and the flood of fragmented, fluctuating information is suddenly that much sharper, all the more painful as he tries to find a flight plan, an angle of movement-

"I…" his voice is broken and lost and would rather be dead than admit this to the mech that he idolized more than anyone in existence. "I can't."

* * *

In the race to retreat he didn't see Perceptor getting hit or heard him fall, but he saw the limp body as Kup and Ratchet pulled him down from Roadbuster's back. "Don't you ever dare die," he gritted out, finally giving voice to the words he had thought at that moment and that had haunted him ever since, "you're too damn important for us to loose."

* * *

_ "All defensive and tactical systems have either been severely damaged or are burnt out," Perceptor concludes, closing up the last of the access panels. "That's caused several cascading systems failures as a direct result: telemetry, long range scans, probabilistic algorithms, acceleration projections- it is beyond our current abilities to repair."_

Springer hunches over, meek and useless and scared. "Kup… 'm sorry."

The reaction he gets is of genuine surprise. "Sorry? What're you sorry for? If it weren't for you, none of us would be here now and you're the one that paid the price for our survival. We're the ones grateful to you."

"Except now I'm useless," his fists trembles against his legs, "I can't gauge distances, can't act as ranged support, can't act as air support, can't utilize my leg thrusters, can't do anything_-"_

"But you're alive," Kup cuts in coolly, "and you're clever. That's more than enough reason for me to know you'll do us all good. You'll find something you can do. Always have."

Shadows hide Springer's face, denta grinding together as he tries so desperately to keep from exploding because as useless as he is, as much deadweight as he's become, lashing out won't solve anything.

"Springer-"

He jerks to his feet, ignoring Perceptor's hand and Kup's knowing expression and storms out.

"Let 'im alone for now, kid. He'll sort it out."

* * *

The footsteps were deliberately loud and Springer didn't move- he knew who they belonged to. "How's he been?"

"Alright," Springer tilted his head slightly to acknowledge Kup. "Ratchet's already cleared out the disruption codes and says his systems just need to purge what's left of the chemical interference. He'll be back on duty soon."

"Good." Kup's focus didn't waver once from Springer. "And you?"

"I'm alright."

"Something on your mind?"

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"A lotta thing."

The audible gnawing halted for a klik as Kup studied the scientist. "Not that much."

Springer couldn't help a crooked smile. "No. Not that much."

* * *

_ "Shoot?" Springer's gotten tired of being in a permanent state of anger, now is only incredulous at the request. "What'd you mean?"_

"I believe it would be beneficial to us all," Perceptor says calmly, "if I could better handle a firearm."

"You already know how to handle one."

"With barely passable accuracy," the admission of his shortcomings doesn't seem to bother him at all. "It seems the best one to teach me would be you."

Springer scowls, arms tight across his chestplate. "There's others that can teach you."

"No one else has the ranged experience you have."

"If you want to become a sniper, you've got the wrong mech."

"The distances you need to cover while in the air puts your skills far beyond the range of anyone on the ground and your ability to compensate for your flight path and several resistance variables makes you more accurate as well."

Shame and anger starts shinning in his optics but Perceptor is still as polite and calm as ever. "Kup can teach you the mechanics-"

"Kup has enough responsibilities as it is."

"Roadbuster-"

"Does not do precision fire, Blaster and Hot Rod are excellent marksmen but only in the mid-range or closer and Blurr and Drift are not much more proficient in firearms than I." Then, all at once, that careful distance in Perceptor's demeanor softens and he puts a hand to the triplechanger's elbow. "I understand how you feel, Springer-"

"Do you," he grits, optics blazing, "do you really? Do you understand just how useless and redundant I feel? I may as well not even exist for all the good I'm doing!"

"I do," came the gentle answer, "because that's how I've felt since joining Kup's crew. Everyone here is trained for battle or has a special skill they can utilize. All I have is my intellect and that, as you've seen time and again, does little against the Swarm." His lips press into a thin line and his optics are pleading. "Tell me how you are able to fire accurately from a distance, Springer. Help me help everyone else."

His arms drop to his sides, all the more helpless now than ever before. "You shouldn't have to do this."

"Perhaps. But if I'm going to be here, I should do all I can."

* * *

A soft groan filtered up from his side and Springer looked down to see a glow softly brightening Perceptor's optics. "Welcome back," he said in the deceptively easy way of his, "to the land of the functioning."

"Springer? I… my head is… I can't think straight…"

"It'll pass, don't worry," he reached down and clasped Perceptor's hand who clutched back almost desperately.

"My targeting array-"

"Ratchet said to keep it off until you're done recalibrating. Said you don't need the additional data screwing you up right now."

"Are we," his faceplates pinched, trying to fight his sluggish response time, "okay?"

Springer smiled sadly, "We are for now."

* * *

_He whistles out of his vents, lowering his binoculars. Beside him, bringing his rifle down to his side, Perceptor can't help an accomplished grin. "Five out of five," Springer claps a hand on the smaller mech's shoulder. "I think you're ready for some action."_


	40. Long is a Dragon

Not dead just....... yeah, okay so I don't really have an excuse for the huge delay. Sorry.

Title: Long is a Dragon  
Fandom: Transformers  
Rating: G  
Characters: Springer, Smokescreen  
Summary: A novelty isn't always something new.

Smokescreen had gotten more than his fair share of befuddled and dismissive looks so he didn't at all find it surprising when someone slid into the open seat next to him to ask, "What are you doing?"

Normally one would have answered 'writing' but Cybertronian lacked a translation for the word. Instead he said, in the best analogue he'd found to describe his activity, "Recreating glyphs."

Beside him, Springer (someone Smokescreen both did and didn't expect to express any sort of curiosity about this) intensely studied the way Smokescreen's hand moved over the touch screen and the imperfect glyphs that were left behind. "Recreating?"

"Yes."

"Why not just input?"

"Because," Smokescreen moved to the next line of glyphs. His specially created program sensed the movement and scrolled the screen upward accordingly, "I think better like this."

The Wrecker continued to stare at the screen, not reading the glyphs so much as trying to understand the counterintuitive logic. Smokescreen could practically hear impatience revving in Springer's cranial unit. The blue mech didn't doubt that, in the time it took Smokescreen to write out an entire word, Springer could have filled out half a report.

"How can you 'think better'? This process is far slower."

A smile quirked at Smokescreen's lips and he wondered if Springer, with all his unconventional methodologies, would be able to understand this one. "It forces me to think slower and, therefore, really know what I'm thinking about."

Springer's focus shifted from staring bemusedly at the writing to looking incredulously at Smokescreen. The latter, of course, already had everything he was planning on writing out composed in his processors but, as he constantly found himself doing as he worked with the slower documentation method, decided he liked a different wording over his original choice. He changed the sentence appropriately and continued to recreate, keeping Springer merely in his peripheral sensors.

"You," the triplechanger said finally, "are a strange mech."

"You're hardly the first to tell me this so it's likely you and the others are on to something with that."

"So how exactly do you do this?"

Surprise had Smokescreen's hand stilling in the middle of a long swish. He turned to the other mech, not quite believing he spoke correctly. "Excuse me?"

"This recreating," Springer replied, focus back on the glyphs, "how does it work?"

The blue mech took his hand away from the unfinished character and Springer's gaze followed it to the table then lifted his optics back up to Smokescreen's. "You want to learn how to do this?"

He received a shrug in response. "Sure, why not? Sometimes when we're out on missions I'm drawing up our plans in the terrain and I'm thinking that drawing symbols can't be all that different from drawing glyphs. After all, isn't that how alphabets and character systems were developed by civilizations?"

"Well... yes," doorwings twitched slightly, not used to anyone expressing ipositive/i interest in his (to put what others had said mildly) odd hobbies.

"So did someone teach you?"

Smokescreen's mouth pressed into a thin line. "I can't say for certain. I just know it's harder to get rid of hardcopy glyphs than the electronic data in your head."

"I get it," and he knew Springer really idid/i get it. "I got time. Teach me."

"Are you sure?"

"Of all the things I do on a regular basis, being able to recreate glyphs by hand ranks a lower hazardous rating than getting a decent recharge. Show me."

Well, Smokescreen decided, if anyone would find a use for this other than meditation it would be Springer. Saving and storing his slanted script, Smokescreen brought up a blank screen and said, "You already know all the glyphs and you're practiced in drawing by hand so we can get right into recreating words. It will probably feel awkward at first, but the real trick is to have the patience and to recognize and not be afraid of uneven or imperfect glyphs. These imperfections gives your recreations... character."

Springer grinned, leaning on his elbows and getting into the lesson. "Always did like character."


	41. And Lines Between

Still not dead. Amazingly enough T.T;

Title: And Lines Between  
Fandom: Transformers  
Rating: G  
Characters: Springer, Thundercracker  
Summary: There was a chance, before the war, for both of them. One neither took.

"Well now, aren't you a sight?"

Though Thundercracker had come here looking for someone, he was the one that was found and there was a sudden tension along his wings. It felt like the purple sigils on the tips were burning. They hadn't felt this glaringly obvious under anyone's scrutiny, not even when Skywarp traced over the lines when they were still new and the sensors beneath tingling.

The jet willed himself not to fidget, but his discomfort must have been obvious because his objective raised an optic ridge. "I'm not judging you."

The caused an indignant laugh to escape Thundercracker's vocalizer, a sharp crack in the murmured quiet of the bar. "You? Not judge?"

"I'm really not." He waved to an empty seat at his elbow for the newly christened Decepticon to take. "I may not agree with how things are playing out- on both sides -but if there's anyone that understands why you'd turn your back on the Autobots, it's me."

Silence layered between them, thick and awkward and Thundercracker couldn't help resenting... something. Maybe the purple marks on his wings, still glossy in their newness, maybe Megatron for starting this tension or Sentinel Prime for escalating it. He didn't like this strangeness between them.

"Springer-"

"Roadbuster asked me back into service," the triplechanger interrupted smoothly. "He's offered me a position as one of his advisors."

All words and thoughts died inside Thundercracker, frozen bits of data whose flow turned to motionless energy that dispelled into nothing. "Are you going to take it?" He forced out the words, tight and low and rough out of his body.

"I don't know. Can't say I ever forgave Command for what they've done to all of us."

But the jet knew Springer would go. If not for the Autobots, he would because it was Roadbuster who asked, just like Thundercracker had gone with Skywarp because he had asked. Though neither the combat vehicle nor triplechanger had the programming a jet did- needing to connect with a trine, with a wing -whatever bond was between them seemed just as strong as anything Thundercracker had ever felt for his closest wingmates. An understanding on a level that defied all sense and words. Or almost did. A barrier was closing around Thundercracker that he couldn't put to name and that he didn't know how to stop. All he knew was that he was reaching out thought that shrinking gap and that Springer was the only one left who could validate him, that this was the _right_ thing he was doing.

"You could join us," and even though that had been his intention in the first place, the jet knew it was going to be futile to try. "We could use someone of your experience."

"I'm not judging you," Springer said with a shake of his head, "but Megatron is a different story. The Decepticons are a reflection of him and I can't say I'm liking what I see."

"It's not as bad as the news makes out."

"Maybe not. I trust you're there because you believe in the cause but... I haven't thrown in my lot either way."

"And if I was ordered to bring you in with force if necessary?"

"You wouldn't," there was such confidence in Springer's optics. As if he truly, truly believed that Thundercracker hadn't at all changed since the Academy. The Decepticon wasn't certain if he liked these changes or not.

He stood, not looking at the green mech, feeling a sudden vacuum in his spark as the wall welded shut inside him. "I'd prefer not to face you in battle." He didn't know if Springer understood exactly what he meant by that. Thundercracker himself wasn't sure how many levels of it he meant, but knew he meant them all.

The light touch on his arm was almost like an anchor and when Thundercracker turned to Springer he almost believed the triplechanger decided to join him. Almost.

The green mech searched the other's faceplates for a moment before finally saying, "Take care of yourself."

It was the best and worst kind of goodbye and Thundercracked nodded in return, "You, too."


	42. Drabble Challenge I

Title: Drabble Challenge  
Fandom: Transformers G1, two TFA, one movie-verse, one cartoon-verse  
Rating: PG-13

**cartoon!Silverbolt, Starscream - connection**

Silverbolt's team was unruly. They were young and inexperienced and had a tendency of jumping in way over their heads without a thought about sending their team leader into spark failure.

They argued and fought. They scoffed and were obstinate and had difficulty integrating with the older Autobots. But, in the end they'd laugh and they'd be apologetic and they'd be more than happy to sling their arms around each other. And they'd curl up against Silverbolt's wings and purr against his back and, no matter what kind of trouble they'd cause or fights they'd get into, they were still his brothers.

In the end, Silverbolt loved them like no other.

Starscream's trine and his position as Air Commander was tenuace at best, even without his own occasionally over-ambitious power grabs and Decepticons' natural inclination of upwards motion. There was tension even in play, suspicion even as they flew simulations.

The Coneheads made themselves as separate from Megatron's elite trine as possible. Skywarp and Thundercracker stayed at Starscream's wings- not out of any sense of loyalty, but mostly out of habit. Because he was their trine leader and he was in charge of them and whatever he got into, they, in theory, were to be right there next to him. But they made snide comments, they distanced themselves, they willingly threw Starscream to Megatron's ire because they wanted no part in any power bids Starscream had.

All five Seekers did their duty as all Decepticons did, but in the end, Starscream was alone.

**ROTF Sideswipe, Ironhide - dancing**

The two mechs watched as the human members of NEST bounced around with drunken abandon, slamming into each other and destroying the melody of whatever song was playing on the stereo, screaming out, "Tell 'em to shake it, shake it, shake that healthy butt!"

Watching over the little group of organics he was told he was supposed to be working with, Sideswipe looked as utterly dumbfounded as a giant alien robot was capable of looking dumbfounded. "So when these... human 'associates' of ours..."

"Mmhmm," Ironhide said, looking at the human males' antics as if they weren't having some sort of group seizure.

"Said they'd spend the night with 'jams' and 'dance' and 'booze'..."

"Mmhmm."

"_This_ is what they meant?"

"After a while," Ironhide drawled lowly, "you come to understand that anything humans say is basically the exact opposite of what you expect them to actually mean."

"I see..."

"Hmm."

They watched as the songs changed and suddenly voices warbled out, "I get knocked down an' I get up again!"

"Ironhide?"

"Yes?"

"What did the humans mean when they said I needed to go to a roller derby?"

**TFA Jazz, Optimus - graceful you dance**

Optimus Prime was floored. He'd gotten used to the feeling (still not happy with experiencing it, but used to it nonetheless) after waking up on Earth because human society was far, far different from anything he'd ever experienced before. And he was floored again by, of all things, a fellow Cybertronian and, in fact, by an Elite Guard.

Jazz, in return, looked dubious at Optimus's contradiction to his suggestion. "If it wasn't made for dancing to," the visored mech said, rain and thunder and lightning going on all around him, "then why the the heavy bass line and light show?"

**TFA Lambos, Prowl**

He wants to ask 'is this really necessary?' but won't because he knows better. Because they'll say 'absolutely!' and 'we're taking no chances' and that any kind of acknowledgment is really just encouragement to them anyway.

Of course, allowing them to keep him tucked securely between the two of them is also encouragement so there's no way Prowl can ever win against them.

He's gotten surprisingly used to that idea, even if he still isn't happy with it.

So Prowl stews there with Sideswipe on one side and Sunstreaker on the other and he's at least relieved that they aren't actually trying to grope him now. They're mindful of the wounds he'd recently gotten over and merely have their arms slung one over his shoulders, the other around his waist and the Lamborghinis glare at the world at large, daring anyone to come near Prowl now.

Prowl makes a mental note to beat the slag out of Lockdown next time he sees the bounty hunter for making his two suitors feel the need to start acting as 'bodyguards'.

**Rumble, Frenzy - 80's comedy movie**

"It was totally his idea."

"It was not! _You_ came up with it!"

"You certainly weren't stoppin' me, either!"

"I went along to keep ya outta trouble!"

"An' a fat lotta good _that_ did!"

"/If the both of you don't cut your vocalizers right now,/" Megatron growled, "/I will allow Scrapper to restring the two of you into the _Nemises'_ back-up lighting system, is that understood?/"

"Yes, Lord Megatron," Rumble and Frenzy meeped, sinking into Ramjet's seat as the Seeker taxi'd them halfway across the country.

"/Now/," the Decepticon leader growled over the comm link, "/you will explain to me just what was so important in Astoria that caused me to _negotiate_ with the Autobots for your release?/"

The longer silence transmitted over the line, the thicker the angry tension got.

"/_Well_?/"

Eventually one of the cassetticons mumbled, "We was lookin' fer One-Eyed Willy's treasure.."

**Twins, Smokescreen - oops**

Prowl stood there, an even more stern expression on his perpetually stern faceplates while Sideswipe and Sunstreaker simmered behind him. "Have we reached an understanding, Smokescreen?"

The other Nissan, taking the lecture with humble contrition, nodded, "Yes, Prowl."

"This deliberate misuse of misinformation will not be tolerate in the future."

"Understood, sir."

"Good." He turned, nodding to the Lamborghinis who gave Smokescreen one last snarl each before stalking off.

A good two minutes passed before Prowl said, "They really believed you when you told them that particular brand of wax took five hours to set and required them to stay absolutely still?"

"Apparently," Smokescreen stretched out his arms with a sunny little grin. "Does this make me a bad mech?"

"Yes, it does."

"You want me to try it again when they're being particularly obstinate?"

"If you could."

**Prowl, Springer - crazy glue**

"Don't."

There was the deliberate silence of someone 'don't'ing.

"Stop that."

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're _thinking_ it."

"No thoughts have crossed my mind."

"I can hear you laughing."

"I am not."

"Yes you are. I can _feel_ you laughing."

An engine revved momentarily.

"See! You're laughing!"

A sound that was specifically not a snort of laughter. Seriously. "I was not."

Hands tugged uselessly from where they had been stuck to his helmet. "When I can see again, I will hurt you until I feel better."

**Ratchet, Wheeljack - for science**

"Wheeljack?"

"Ya, Ratch?"

"Why does your lab suddenly looked like a human kitchen?"

"I found out that- very interestingly -some very common human household items can actually cause hallucinations. Like poppy seeds, nutmeg, certain kinds of fish and cheese-"

"And just.... _why_ are these in your lab?" He gave the engineer a suspicious look. "How exactly is this 'for science'?"

"Oh, it's not," Wheeljack said with a happy grin, "I just think it's kind of hilarious is all."

**Mirage, Thundercracker - regret**

"I have the feeling that I am going to regret this."

"Yeah? Well I'm already regretting this."

The spy gave an odd look, drawling in his natural, high-society way, "You're regretting the decision of working with the enemy in order to stay alive and report a much larger threat to your command?"

"No," Thundercracker snarled back, "I'm regretting the fact that I have to _walk_ back to command to do so because my wings are in excruciating pain and I have to deal with _you_ for far longer than I'd prefer."

"Trust me, the company isn't very much appreciated on my end, either," Mirage said with a sniff. "But it is necessary and, therefore, I am willing to put aside my distaste for you and the situation in order for things to be accomplished as quickly as we can do so."

The snooty attitude was almost up to Starscream's range minus the barbs directed towards Thundercracker's intelligence. But the jet supposed it was better going that way rather than listening to Skywarp-level whining.

The thought put a shudder through his struts. "Okay," he muttered to himself, "maybe I don't regret this as much as I could."

**Warpath, Ironhide - weapons talk**

"I can't do it," Ironhide practically wailed, unable to hold it back anymore. "Every time I hold weapons trainin' with Warpath 'round- he opens his mouth an' I'm thinkin' someone went an' misfired or somethin' explodin' an' I just can't do it anymore, Prime!"

**Cliffjumper - face heel turn**

His arms strained against the bonds, denta grinding together as he struggled furiously. The words 'reprogram' and 'traitor' burning in his processors.

"Reprogramming: unnecessary."

The other Decepticons paused and even Cliffjumper froze.

"What was that?"

"Reprogramming: unnecessary," Soundwave repeated. "Other means: possible."

Megatron peered at his third carefully, trying to understand what the communications officer was thinking. Finally he said, "What did you have in mind?"

"Discussion: useful. Privacy: required."

Another long pause, but Megatron waved a hand and all but Soundwave and Cliffjumper moved toward the door. "Report to me on your status in one cycle," the gunformer said, before striding out.

Once the room sealed tightly shut again, Soundwave turned toward the Autobot and said, "I believe you and I will be able to reach an understanding."

"What makes you think I wanna understand _you_, bucketface?" The minibot spat back.

"Because," there was a lulling note in Soundwave's voice, a strange tickle in the back of Cliffjumper's head, "you are not satisfied among the Autobots, are you? Constantly overlooked, underappreciated, and you have no where to turn your aggression when the stress of needing to be _perfect_ and _good_ becomes too much."

Cliffjumper's optics focused on the yellow band before him and, for the life of him, he couldn't shore up his will enough to keep from saying, "I'm listening..."

**Whirl - no touching**

Whirl sat and stared. And kept staring. And he stared until Topspin felt the need to say, "I'm starting to think you want something."

"I want to know something."

"Aw, and here I thought I was just too pretty to ignore."

"I want to know," Whirl said, ignoring Topspin's cheeky lines as easily as he ignored most everything else about the jumpstarter, "is why you actually go around not touching me."

There was a stunned beat of silence. Then a grin of staggering proportions crossed Topspin's faceplates. "Is that an invitation?"

"To continue to not touch me, yes."

"If you don't want me not touching you, then why are you bringing this up?"

"Because you don't ever not touch anyone else." Whirl gave a surprisingly well articulate suspicious look for having only one optic. "Outside of medical necessity, you haven't touched me, even to brush against me. And I'm wondering why that is."

Now the other Wrecker was starting to look confused, "Did you miss then entire 'not touching' talk we just had? I coulda sworn you were here for that."

"I know that," the helo said icily, "I also know that you're almost as touchy as Twin Twist and yet, somehow, you always manage to have a buffer between us if you can."

"Because you don't like all the touchy stuff."

"But you do."

"But _you_ don't."

It was a circular argument, but the subject just kept niggling at the back of Whirl's processors and he _had_ to understand why Topspin- the mech who dared to lounge on Ratchet and Skyfire, the mech who didn't hesitate to slap the shoulders of Ironhide and Mirage -suddenly developed a sense of personal space with the helo. Hell, Whirl could recall Topspin slinging an arm around Optimus Prime in victory once. And yet, unless he had, he never, ever touched Whirl.

"Look," Topspin grinned, partly amused, partly exasperated, "I don't touch you because I know you don't want me to. I'll continue to not touch you unless you tell me otherwise. Okay?"

Part of Whirl accepted it, part of it was still unsatisfied with the explanation. What would've been a satisfactory explanation, though, he had no clue. Grudgingly he said, "Yeah, okay."

**Broadside, Cassettibot - huge vs eenie**

They all stood around, looking up at Broadside and even Blaster had to tip his metaphorical hat.

"It's ingenius."

"No one else would've guessed it."

"I'm impressed, I really am."

Broadside didn't know if he really liked the idea or not but since it was already done his opinion was well and all moot. From various compartments and gaps under his armor, Blaster's cassettes crawled out, safely smuggled onto the planet.

**Mirage, Jazz - doorwing code**

"Are ya _sure_ that's what it means?"

"More or less, I believe so."

"But I coulda sworn..."

"Maybe it's more... contextual."

"There's no way you could twist that context around. If that's what that pattern means, then when he did it _here_ is really, really inappropriate and is kinda nightmare-fuel."

"But if you look at all the situations that happened _before_ then, then it would make sense."

"But it's not _now_ and I know that pattern _certainly_ doesn't mean what we think it does 'cause really. He's too soft-spark a mech to do that to anyone let alone _Carly_."

"....Maybe we need to look over our old data again. We might've missed something."

Watching Mirage and Jazz grumble to themselves and each other from the safety of the other side of the commons, Smokescreen sent over a ping, [Prowl,] he chided, [aren't you always telling me not to deliberately mislead others? And now you've got impressionable little Blue in on it...]

A teasing hint of a smile filtered over the link. [I believe it's worth it.]

**Scoop - protective**

It had to have been his imagination- a glitch in his optic filters. It couldn't have _possibly_ been true-

He shoved his way through bodies, not caring at all for the curses and glares he received, not noticing if he knocked anyone over because _he_ was there and he was _hurt_ but _alive_ and _laughing_-

The laughter stopped abruptly and the mech he was searching for suddenly seemed to shrink back, staring anxiously at the war-worn mechs around him who were the reasons why he both got hurt and was still alive. "I-I- wait," he spluttered desperately, "it's not-"

Grapple just lunged forward, wrapping Scoop- his protege, the closest thing he had to family -in a tight embrace, "Thank Primus you're okay!"

**Soundwave, Cassetticons - worries**

The plans burned in their processors as brightly as it did in Soundwave's, the lines of circuits and coding bright and glowing as their carrier worked.

All of the Cassetticons circled around the table, staying silent and still and out of Soundwave's way as sodering tools sparked and connections winched together. They said and did nothing but the words were in their stances, the tension in the focus of their optics.

They wondered at the purpose of this new creation, the one who would soon become one of their brethren. They thought about their system of hierarchy, protective of their own specialties they didn't want another to encroach on. They watched and waited, wanting to know how they should react to another sharing their place and their carrier's consciousness.

They were vultures in reverse, the carrion they hunched around coming to life before they could put it in its place so they could keep theirs.

**Fireflight - fearless**

Fireflight sat through another lecture- nothing new as they never had been new for the last hundred lectures or whatever. But he sat patiently and listened and knew he was trying, _really_, but it just didn't seem to be enough.

He looked up as Silverbolt pattered off and said with nothing but honesty in his optics and tone, "I'm sorry." Then he said, "I don't know why you're worrying though. I mean, it might've been a close call but I didn't even run into anything this time and I haven't panicked about running into stuff in a while."

Silverbolt looked... afraid? Vulnerable? He told Fireflight, "I'm not as fearless as you are."

**Starscream, Fireflight - come home**

He curled up, fingers scoring across the ground and shudders ripping through his body. Broken. Shattered. A revolting mess of metal and innocence once beautiful.

"Please," he whimpered without knowing why he thought begging would do him any good, "let me go. I have to... I promised I'd go home. P-Please, let me go home..."

Starscream traced the tarnished red logo on once white wings before he gripped a broken panel and tore it away. "Little Autobot," he grinned, "you are going no where."

**sparkling!Springer, Jazz**

"You are _adorable_, aren't you? Yes, you are! Yes, you are, you cute little ankle-hugger!"

The sparkling laughed and squealed under the assault of Jazz tickling him until his fans started wheezing.

Blaster looked on in equal parts awe and horror. "Jazz," he said, "I'm... actually kinda disturbed."

**Megatron, Orion Pax - rules**

The young dock worker prattled on and on, interspersing his explanation of the various workings of the factory and the items being stored there with his enthusiastic gushing of having _the_ Megatron around!

"It's actually the warehouse at the end of the row that stores all the old chemicals before they go to be safely disposed of. We're actually going to be expecting a shipment of basic automatons shortly- they always come through here for processing before being sent to various factories."

He hesitated for a moment, peering up meekly at the great gray mech next to him. "All this information isn't boring you, is it?"

A thin, thoughtful grin slanted the corners of Megatron's mouth. "I'm finding it all rather... useful to know."

"Oh, good," came the relieved reply. "Technically I'm not supposed to let you come in the back of the warehouse but... well, you're Megatron! I'm sure no one would mind me bending the rules for you this once."

Megatron merely rumbled in amusement as Orion Pax continued his tour. No, he thought sadistically, I'm sure they'd think differently...

**Beachcomber - annoyed**

Beachcomber never really felt at home in the metallic confines of the Ark so he ventured out into the Earthian wilderness and now, all of the sudden, even _that_ was starting to become elusive to him.

Uncharacteristically Beachcomber glowered at the mass of object littering his favorite beach and the noise being produced. Moodily he backed up into the street, deciding to find refuge in the mountains instead. "Tourists," he muttered to himself.

**Starscream, Prowl - kids**

Starscream did not panic. He never panicked and he certain was not panicking now. He held his weapon to the human child, sensors sweeping outward in order to find a safe escape from the Autobots before him. "Back off!" He snapped as the little organic wailed in his hand. "Or this noisy pest is going to be splattered all over the ground!"

"Steady, everyone," the apparent ranking officer- Prowl, if Starscream's memory served -held out his hands as if he could rope his fellow Autobots and human companions back. "Do not give him a reason to do anything rash..."

Sensing his escape imminently approaching, the Decepticon snarled, "And don't try to follow me!" His turbines gunned, sending him spiraling through the air and out of sight.

The Autobots all looked confused. Spike was partly annoyed, partly exasperated. "Prowl..."

"I apologize, Spike," the officer said calmly, "I will explain to your teacher about losing your simulation infant."

**Scrapper, Hook - stop that**

"Stop that."

Scrapper, of course, did not stop and continued to make little constructs out of whatever spare material was on hand. His current materials consisted of broken pieces of cement, rebar and some twisted and burnt metallic husks from cars that were too close to the blast zone. The other Constructicons dubbed this Scrapper's version of 'fidgeting'. Hook considered it to be one of Scrapper's more annoying flaws. Thankfully it only occurred when the front loader was worried and had nothing to occupy his time or attention. Unfortunately, this was one of those times.

In an amazing move of empathy- transparently covered by a veil of annoyance and snappishness -Hook grabbed Scrapper's hands and hissed again, "_Stop that_."

The visored mech stared blandly at his fingers that dangled loosely from Hook's grip. The surgical engineer understood- on so many levels he did -but he refused to let his friend and partner and peer fall into that pit as he always kept him from falling into it.

With logic and reason. "Mixmaster is in no current danger," he said lowly, tone almost soft considering who was speaking. "Astrotrain is incoming and Starscream is bringing additional equipment. You will be able to complete the patches on Longhaul, Scavenger and yourself and once I completely stabilize Mixmaster, he'll be loaded into Astrotrain and we'll return to _Nemises_ where I can fully repair him.

"There is no danger. There will be no complications. Therefore, there is no reason for you to worry."

Scrapper merely looked up at his second and Hook didn't need a gestalt link to know that the other would still worry and would always worry so long as one of their teammates were hurt. But he didn't reach for his little playthings again, just squeezed at Hook's fingers.

**Twins, Prowl - seduction**

It was so easy to get caught up. It was so simple and dwell and imagine, act and react, to immerse himself fully into every little detail. His processes whirled with thoughts, each a comforting, alluring pull, the weight seductive as it settled across his frame. It was the control, the knowledge that it was there and for him, that only he could take care of everything the way it was meant to be cared for.

Then two sets of hands would pull him away from his work and voices would be chiding and exasperated but always fond on some level and Prowl would be forced to remember that, sometimes, it was nice to be taken care of instead.

**Prowl, Twins - leave him alone**

It started off with little comments like, "Leave him alone, he's got such important work to do" or "No need to worry about us. After all, it's not like he have anything better to do ourselves". Then it moved on to other things like, "Oh, so that was _yours_? I'd forgotten because you hadn't used it in so long" and "Not tonight, I've got my own plans and I just couldn't put those off. You know how it is".

It was, honestly, getting entirely ridiculous and Prowl was not above recognizing that it was his own fault that it started when he placed those limitations on the twins. So, scowling more at himself and the situation that the two before him, he said, "I'm retracting the rule about not bothering me when I'm working. And, for the record, I infinitely prefer it when there was less 'passive' in your 'aggressive'."

**Inferno, Red Alert, Firestar - rescue**

He staggered backward, a look of utter horror on his faceplates. Inferno's knees buckled, and he crashed against the bulkhead, barely able to keep his feet.

"You... didn't..." Firestar's hand came up to her mouth, struggling to keep her composure.

"Oh no," he moaned, "oh no, oh no, oh no..."

"You really..."

"Nonononono-"

"I can't believe this."

"I didn't... I didn't _mean_ to!"

"Inferno, how _could_ you!"

"I'm _sorry_!" The red mech wailed, desperation etched deep in the seams of his face. "Please, Star! Ya gotta help me!"

She shouldn't have to. Really, she shouldn't feel like she should but... But if Red Alert found out, not only would he be hurt beyond belief, but he's also mangle Inferno.

"Alright, alright, I'll help you," she sighed as Inferno wrapped his arms around her, sobbing in relief. "I can't believe you forgot your own anniversary."


	43. Do No Harm

So I've had a couple different reviewers comment on the fact that some of the challenge chapters I do- especially the drabble challenges -tend to be rather on the long side. Since I'd rather not have each drabble be it's own chapter- partly because that would mean putting up about ten new chapters (at least) at once and partly because I tend to find stories that do that on the annoying side (i know i've done that for a couple chapters of 'destruction' orz) -I'd like to know if any of you have a good middle ground I could try next time.

In the mean time, something new I haven't been working on for weeks on end!

* * *

Title: Do No Harm  
Fandom: Transformers  
Rating: PG  
Characters: First Aid, Topspin  
Summary: You'd think two easy-to-get-along-with mechs would be able to get along...

He needed to focus. He _was_ focusing, but his attention kept fraying at the edges, where he couldn't stop hearing a voice whose words and tone kept preying at the back of his head.

"Wow, those are some mean looking scorch marks you got going on! Lucky you, though, your wounds have already been cauterized so just a snip here, stitch there and you'll be back to at fighting form!"

He wanted to say something. Oh, did First Aid ever want to say something, but he was far too busy. The wounded had been flooding the field hospital faster than they were going out- or even stabilizing, frighteningly enough. First Aid not only needed to keep from being distracted, but he also needed all the help he could get.

"Ouch. Unfortunately we're fresh outta lower legs, but I could rig up something nice for ya. Custom-made, one of a kind! Still probably wouldn't be able to sell it for much, but at least you'll be on your peds! Well, ped and a half, really."

First Aid made a small gesture to a passing tech who came over and siphoned energon into the Protectobot's fuel line. The rush of stims flashed through him and medical procedures came to him easier, his hands twisting around his tools with a nimbleness that wasn't there a moment ago. But he still mentally winced each time he saw one of the walking wounded being sent back out, patched up and expected to fight again. It wasn't because they were just going back to put themselves in danger, but because no one was available to look them over.

"Looks like you could use a graft. No problem- that's my specialty! Well, I'm all sorts of special, but I'm magic with grafts, I'll make ya living proof of that!"

Because First Aid couldn't make sure they were properly cared for.

"Good news is your optic is still in working order! Bad news is, since we don't another lens we'll need to cover it up for protection so you'll only be able to see my handsome face with one optic."

They were so short staffed that they had to depend on the help of an unverified mech to keep fighters cycling out.

"And, viola! Almost as good as going to a back alley clinic for unlicensed surgery! I know, I know, I do miracles."

An unverified mech who treated everything like a _joke_! All these lives that depended on them, with little to no room for error and he had the gall to laugh at their wounds!

"Sir, the last of the criticals have been stabilized."

"Good," First Aid said, leaning back from his work as his assistant began sealing everything shut. Exhaustion and tension were competing inside First Aid's body, but he wouldn't allow himself the rest. Not until everyone was repaired. "Have two teams start on the most pressing of the yellow group, another team to reinventory our supplies and everyone else work on the greens."

"Yessir."

He was too young to be in charge of a field hospital. If it wasn't for the war, he still wouldn't even be the leading surgeon in an operation, and here he was having to direct everyone in what to do. First Aid was no longer responsible for those who came under his scalpel, he was suddenly in charge of everyone that came into the hospital. All the staff members, every life they tried to save, was _his_ responsibility which was why he went up to the unverified mech who was chatting to a bot who was trying his hardest not to cry out as lines were being reconnected and soldered together.

"I can take care of things from here," First Aid said and hoped his tone didn't come out as strained as he felt.

"I'm good," the blue and white mech replied, not looking up from what he was doing. "There's another one about three bodies down that need rewiring to her shoulder after a part of it got blown off-"

First Aid put a hand to the mech's shoulder, trying to be firm without being aggressive. "I can handle it, thank you."

The mech paused, then looked up. The confused bow of his mouth the only thing showing under his optic band. "You want me to stop here so I can work on her shoulder?"

"No," he said, steeling his patience. "I mean, I can handle what's left here. You can go back to the field."

"No worries. My unit's doing fine without me, so they sent me in here to help you out. I can stick around."

The stress was starting to put pressure in First Aid's cranial unit, prickling between his shoulders and along the circuits of his back. "I appreciate the help and the good intentions, I truly do, but now that my staff has everything under control again, I'd feel more comfortable having certified medics and technicians dealing with the rest of the wounded."

The frowning disappeared, covered over by a coldly blank expression. "You don't think I'm qualified to be doing this," he accused.

The field medic knew there was no way to back out for the verbal trap and, honestly, he was too tired to attempt it. "No," First Aid said, "I don't know what your training or qualifications are."

"I'm the Wreckers' medic."

"The Wreckers don't have a medic."

That got the other mech bristling. "Not officially, but I'm more than capable of handling these kinds of repairs."

"I'm not getting any sort of medical or engineering training from your pings. That makes you, to my knowledge, untrained and unverified."

"No- I know for a fact my information still reads that I was built specifically to be an EMT."

"But you have no training."

"I have plenty of experience with-"

"You have no training."

By now the mech was on his peds, looming over the smaller First Aid and practically snarling at him, "I can do my job!"

"Right now, all I know about your job is that you're a Wrecker- which is the exact opposite of what I need in my hospital." First Aid shot back. "How do I if you're qualified to be here if you don't have information? This field hospital is under my command- that means that _every single patient_ that comes in here is _my_ responsibility! If even one bot that you've repaired falls due to bad treatment- because I couldn't watch over you -it's _my fault_!"

"So what's the difference between letting me help then and letting me help _now_?"

"Because I don't have to turn a blind sensor to you anymore. You're no longer needed."

The Wrecker refused to budge an inch as he snarled, "Some gratitude for the mech that helped keep your precious hospital from collapsing all around you from bodies."

"I would've figured you'd be happier out on the field," First Aid gritted out, patience a taut line on the verge of snapping. "Back to killing things as you were meant to do."

Joints strained audibly, tight fists trembling against white thighs and First Aid could see the other mech was trying so damn _hard_ not to strike at him. The Protectobot was actually surprised he didn't- he probably would've hit himself for that comment, one he knew was a harsh and unfair blow but just couldn't bring himself to care anymore.

"Fine," the Wrecker gritted out, pistons compressed hard in his jaw, "have it your way." He spun about, stomping through the opening of the field hospital with a fury that trailed behind him, burning almost visibly in the air.

First Aid turn, buried under the silence around him, of all the weight of optics and stunned expressions focused solely on him. Angry, tired and more than a little ashamed at himself, First Aid snapped, "Get to work."


	44. Everything You NEver Had

So this should have been done, like, _two friggin' months ago_ but I had problems with writer's block, school, writer's block, more writer's block, rl issues, and AAAARRGH, more or less in that order. But at least it's done, huh? Huh?

Title: Everything You (N)Ever Had  
Fandom: Transformers  
Rating: PG  
Word Count: 3037  
Characters: Springer, Thundercracker, Roadbuster, Skywarp, various others  
In Response to: **springkink**  
Summary: Transformers, Thundercracker/Springer, Long Separation - "We had it all, and watched it slip away." Beware the interwoven, Memento-style non-linear narration. Vague Megatron Origin and All Hail Megatron references.

_"What are you looking so nervous about receiving your orders for? Don't tell me you're going to miss the Academy."_

"Considering how sick I've gotten looking at the same faces and running constant exercises for a majority of my existence, I think it's safe to assume that's one thing I won't be saying."

"So you're afraid of all the unknown out there, huh?"

"Who's afraid?"

"Believe me, out of everyone in our platoon, you're one of the few I can say for certain don't need to worry about the future. You've got the skill, the knowledge-"

"The patience."

"-the dedication to really make a name for yourself. Commands across all the systems will be clamoring to get you onboard."

"Your confidence in me is astounding. I'm almost worried about your opinion of yourself."

* * *

"You'll be fine, it's gonna be okay-"

"It _will_ be if you lot got out of my way and let me work here!"

The words were just secondary noise, an absent-minded acknowledgment that Springer thought he was supposed to understand but he couldn't quite string sense together. All he felt was pain. Pain and the sluggish sense that he still had a job to do.

Something was holding him down and it took Springer a long moment to realize it was someone's hand on his ruined chestplate. It took even longer for him to realize that the screaming pain in his body was from his attempting to get up.

"Take it easy, Springer," someone said above him. "You've gotten yourself pretty slagged up and I'm not above having someone sit on you to keep you still while I fix you."

Some bleary corner of his processors labeled the speaker as 'Ratchet'. Springer's body went limp, too exhausted and broken to do anything more. In an attempt to escape the pain, his systems began cycling down.

In a far off distance another voice said, just on the edge of Springer's awareness, "Rest up, kid, you did damn good. I'm proud of you..."

* * *

_He was a rising star. The current height of technological achievement and training. He was an inspiration, his record flawless and reputation glowing. His name was synonymous with practical leadership, carefully weighed decision making and the unwavering loyalty of his wing whom he put in the highest regard. Command couldn't seem to promote him fast enough, his peers couldn't help but respect him and there was nothing but praise from those he commanded._

Then, one day, it was like he woke up.

His peers, though they respected him, tried to sabotage him in every subtle way possible. Command, though eager to promote him, gave him offices that were largely ceremonial and far from the outer stations where his tactical knowledge or flight skill was needed. He was being marginalized because, though competent as he was, he couldn't be controlled by those above him.

The only ones who were as they seemed were the wings he was in charge of. Their loyalty to him was undeniable, unquestionable. It was the kind of loyalty that, when he was arrested for refusing to co-op some of his fliers for a mission he deemed suicidal and pointless, they rioted as he was being restrained.

When Command gave him a chance to repent, to submit to following all orders in the future without question, Thundercracker refused outright. He was sent to the brig and to trial and only his record, stead-fast character and fear of martyring him saved him from being reprogrammed. Instead, after his sentence was served, he was forcibly ejected from the Security Force. That suited Thundercracker fine. If he ever had to deal with an Autobot again, he doubted it would end well.

* * *

It hurt. He knew- they all knew -that it would one day come down to this, but it still hurt and it still made his internals churn violently. Springer stood before his mechs and tried to pretend he wasn't shaking down to his bolts. "Wreckers," he said and there was none of his easy good nature or sly wit, just resignation and guilt, "this mission will likely be our last. We've always done into the impossible and we've survived but this time... this time is like no other."

He softened no blows, fed no sideways lines. They would know exactly what they'd be getting into. They would know he trusted them even to the last moment. "This is no battle we can win. Everything is against us- numbers, firepower, support and none of these Decepticons we'll be up against are like the cowards and bullies we've known before. These are Megatron's best trained, most disciplined troops. Our objective isn't to route them, our objective is to slow those 'cons down by any means necessary, to the very last instant of our lives. We will not receive any back up or additional support, we cannot pull back. We have to give our fellow Autobots every nano-klik we can so they can escape." Springer's hands pressed into the tabletop and he did not flinch as he met the gaze of every one of his mechs. "This is the mission in which most, if not all of us, will die."

His words smothered the room- dark, heavy and brutal. Optics and visors darkened, flared, pulsed as the realization that their end had finally come sank in.

"All who want to live, leave. I won't force anyone to give up their lives and not wanting to die is no weakness. You have all served well and gave to the Autobots more than they could ever repay you for. Whether you leave with our ships or stay at my side, I am proud to have fought with you and to call you my brothers."

A hand cut through the air, dismissing the tension and noble sentiments as if this mission were like any other. As if they had been prepared to die fighting with their brothers from the moment they first joined the squad. "You've never needed to coerce us into facing highly probable death before," Roadbuster said and intense, predatory grins spread over faceplates, ready to see just what it would take to finally end their savagery. "What's the plan?"

* * *

_"I'd appreciate if you'd stop following me."_

"Not until you say yes."

"I don't need a partner."

"Yes, you do. No one wants to hire a solo-flier. Makes you look like you can't cooperate with others."

"That's their loss, then."

"Your problem, too. You've got to be high maintenance with your kind of specs. Can't keep yourself in the air if you have no creds."

Thundercracker finally turned around, faceplates pulled together in annoyance at the other flier who continually put himself at his side. "Why do you keep at me when I keep telling you no?"

A self-satisfied smile curled the expressive mouth. "Because I also happen to be in need of a partner and I want no one but the best at my wing."

"What makes you think you're good enough for me?"

The smile turned into a sharp grin and the black jet leaned in close, daring Thundercracker to back away. He didn't. "Try me and see."

He didn't want a partner, but he needed one because work was_ scarce for a solitary flier and he was scrounging what little funds he had left. Thundercracker didn't know how a private sector jet would be anywhere near as impressive as the military grade he was used to, but if he didn't gamble on this chance, he'd fall too far into disrepair. "Alright. I'm Thundercracker."_

"Skywarp."

* * *

They couldn't have looked more outraged if he'd suggested surrendering to the Decepticons outright. "Are you _insane_?" They burst out all at once. "You'll get everyone killed! It's suicide and will leave the rest of us vulnerable!"

"It can work," Springer stared down the other officers, "if I get the right mechs, I can _make_ it work."

"You may as well just give them the base!"

"It's reckless, yes, but that's precisely why it _will_ work. It's exactly why the Decepticons keep beating you back." The triplechanger leaned forward on his hands, palms flat against the projection table they all gathered around. "They have plenty of disgruntled former Autobot personnel. They know all your maneuvers and know how to counter them. Plus the mechs they got from private sectors whose abilities and strategies we're not familiar with make them harder to predict. We need to stop reacting defensively and adapt our thinking just as they have. This plan is dangerous, yes," Springer's optics flared in defiance, "but it's the only one we have that will give us more than a marginal chance of success."

They all stared at him and Springer could see their distaste wasn't so much for the plan as it was for _him_. He was an upstart, an uncontracted freelancer, a disgraced former officer and he presumed to tell _them_- military planners who proudly served and lived their entire lives commanding troops and fighting wars -what to do? By ignoring millions of years of carefully recorded and faithfully followed doctrine?

"Alright," Jazz spoke up for the first time with his gambler's smile, "tell me what you need Special Ops to do."

"You'll also have full support from the air," Silverbolt agreed.

"And Security," added Ironhide.

The other officers gaped at the potential career suicide the three just took. "Prime!" They cried, trying to appeal to their highest authority. "Prime, you can't let him do this! He'll get us all killed!"

Silently the great mech looked at all his officers, gauging them in his quiet, considering way. Then he looked at the officer who was in charge of the ground forces, the one who had brought Springer on as an advisor. "And you? What do you think?"

"I think you've already made your decision," Roadbuster replied, "and I agree."

"Very well. Springer, pick your mechs and inform us as to what you need us to do."

The triplechanger gave a sharp, predatory grin. "Yes, Optimus Prime."

"And Springer?" Optimus gave a knowing smile. "Consider this the first mission for your Wreckers. If this works, I'll officially sanction the creation of your team."

* * *

_This was justice. This was fair. This was everything the Autobots weren't and everything they should have been. Cybertronians of all forms and functions, from the very low to the disillusioned high, they all came together for the same purpose. They were united to seize for themselves all the things the ruling classes took away, all the things they were denied from the very beginning, just because of their function or their status. Thundercracker was proud to be part of it, to bring equality to his homeworld, to allow any Cybertronian to do and be as they wished, limited only by the quality of their skill and not what they were._

Thundercracker may have had his doubts, but he was glad that Starscream and Skywarp had convinced him to join with them. An explorative scientist and a private sector security jet, flying wing to wing with a top of the line military fighter. The three of them were a symbol. The Autobots- the Old Guard -would have never allowed a trine like them to exist, wouldn't have allowed Starscream or Skywarp into their ranks no matter how impressive their skills. But in the Decepticons, it was possible. To Megatron, the only things that mattered was skill and loyalty. And there were few that held as much of both as the three jets did.

Starscream was the one chosen to lead the trine and Thundercracker didn't care. Starscream was the one chosen to command the wings and be Megatron's second in command and Thundercracker didn't care because he knew he had the best wingmates created, he knew they were the greatest trine to have ever functioned and he never felt so powerful, so needed, so... free_ in all his existence._

It was all thanks to Megatron and the Decepticons. It was because of them Thundercracker had finally found a voice for his misgivings and frustrations. It was because of them he found a place he belonged. For them, Thundercracker pledged his talents, his devotion, his everlasting service. For them, Thundercracker would proudly die.

* * *

"I wouldn't have come back for anyone but you."

"I know."

"You're the only one who thinks my being here is a good idea."

"I know."

"All anyone else cares about is my record."

"I know."

"I don't know if it's worth it."

Roadbuster finally turned to Springer, an incredulous light in his optic visor. "Since when have you ever cared about what others think?"

"My career's been ruined and dead for a long time," Springer said defensively. "You're putting your aft on the line bringing me back and I'm wondering if I'm worth the risk."

"I asked you back precisely because you ignore propriety and tradition in favor of getting the job done the best way you can," said the combat vehicle in even, unyielding tones. "You don't back down, you don't care about how things _should_ be done, you do what _needs_ to be done. And I don't care whose treads you roll over to do it. Right now, someone like you is exactly what we need."

Springer looked at his friend for a long, measured moment. Then the tension slowly left his shoulders and he said in a voice that said 'thank you for giving me this chance', "Then let's shake some foundations."

* * *

_Sometimes Thundercracker wondered why he was still there. He _knew_ why- he had no place else to go, he was too deep into the Decepticons for him to ever get out, for anyone to ever let him forget the things he'd done. Nor would his programming allow him to merely leave behind the two greatest wingmates Thundercracker had ever known. They were simply irreplaceable in their skills, in the ways they made the trine flawless. They were the embodiments of the Decepticon ideal- Starscream's merciless intelligence and Skywarp's playful ruthlessness. Thundercracker couldn't have gotten more perfect partners if he had created them himself._

And that was part of the problem. Because Skywarp was the ends and Starscream the means and Thundercracker didn't know what he was anymore. He had joined the Decepticons because Starscream was awed by Megatron's presence and Skywarp wanted guidance and Thundercracker was swayed by the idea of change and revolution. It fueled him to aspire to a greatness that surpassed what he was as an Autobot. It swept him up and spun him about, pulled by talk of 'the greater good', 'the long run', 'part of a whole' until he could barely make sense of what he was doing to what was before him.

It was for the cause. It was for the future. It twisted Thundercracker's views and morality until it turned him into a perfect, cold-sparked soldier that only followed orders and didn't question hurting those that couldn't fight back. Because they were part of the institution that had tried to control everyone, that could pick and disregard whoever it wanted and expected no one to stand up and tell it 'no'. The leader he followed so staunchly had become disconnected from his own views, the wingmates Thundercracker was so proud of turned cruel, paranoid and treacherous. Thundercracker himself became, as a Decepticon, the very thing he fought against as an Autobot.

And then, one day, it was like he woke up. 

* * *

By the time his contract was half over, he'd heard it all.

"How could they have created such a troublesome officer?"

"He has potential to be a leader but shows no restraint or respect for the chain of command."

"He incites rebellious attitudes in the troops but questioning and challenging his superiors in front of the lower ranks."

"He's practically attempting to usurp command."

By the time his contract was three-quarters complete, his record ran a gamut of offenses: belligerence, dereliction of orders, disorderly conduct, reckless endangerment- all his merits drowned in instances of bad behavior and complaints from other officers. He was, they said, a threat to the institution and everyone around him.

By the time his contract was up for renewal, Springer did what few others had done in thousands of years. He left, determined to prove what someone like him could do away from the oppressive, stringent command of the Autobots.

* * *

_There was nothing but fury and hurt in Skywarp's expression and Thundercracker couldn't feel anything but so damn tired._

"Warp-"

"You betrayed_ us! You _saved_ those Autobots and those worthless humans!"_

"There was no point in killing a race that can't harm us-"

"I trusted you_! You were my brother! You were the greatest partner I ever had and you threw everything we ever worked for away for _humans_! You've betrayed the Decepticons!"_

Thundercracker said nothing, knew Skywarp wouldn't be able to see that the Decepticons had betrayed themselves. That somewhere, through all the battles, they had lost sight of what it was they were fighting for. Some days, Thundercracker couldn't quite remember what it was, either, but he knew that this wasn't the way.

"Traitor," Skywarp sneered, the blasters on his arms whining a high, destructive note. Thundercracker didn't fight or flinch when they were brought to bear, pointblank. He did nothing but think 'I'm sorry' and wasn't entirely certain what he was sorry for.

All he saw was light and pain and then nothing.

* * *

"Believe me, out of everyone in our platoon, you're one of the few I can say for certain don't need to worry about the future. You've got the skill, the knowledge-"

"The patience."

"-the dedication to really make a name for yourself. Commands across all the systems will be clamoring to get you onboard."

"Your confidence in me is astounding. I'm almost worried about your opinion of yourself."

"What, me?" Springer grinned wide and sharp. "I'm gonna be the biggest pain ever and all the officers will be begging to get rid of me."

Thundercracker couldn't help an answering smirk spreading across his lips. "I don't doubt you'll be enjoying every moment of it."

"Trust me, TC. A mech like you has the universe in a bag."


	45. 1 Sentence Challenge V

I did something! Hurray! While I can't promise that I'll be doing any regular updates, there are still some ideas floating around in my head for the fandom that I'd like to get out if I ever get the proper inspiration for them, so don't count me entirely out just yet!

* * *

Title: 1-Sentence Challenge  
Fandom: Transformers one movie-verse, G1, some crossovers with Blue Beetle at the end  
Rating: PG-13

**movie-verse- Optimus/Ironhide - But why me?**

Optimus said it was 'good for relations' and that 'everyone needed to establish a rapport' and 'it's good to expand your experiences'.

None of that, of course, explained why Ironhide had to do these diplomatic, international meetings _without his slagging canons_.

**Cosmos, lonely**

Space was far, far from empty- but after having to hid from space stations and telescopes and dodging aimless satellites, Cosmos wished it wasn't so _full_.

**Bluestreak and/or Fireflight - most dangerous**

The new Autobot detachment thought it was a joke, some weird, elaborate prank the original crew was pulling- either that or they had misheard the names en mass because really, there was absolutely no possible way that these two beaming, friendly mechs could be anything like the most dangerous mechs on the planet.

Until, of course, they witnessed first hand the power of hopeful blue optics...

**First Aid/Topspin - Hide me!**

For a moment Ratchet thought he was having an out-of-body experience when Topspin ran in crying, "Quick! Hide me!" and First Aid came stomping in soon after, cursing up a storm.

**Springer, Prowl, approval**

Prowl just gave Springer a 'seriously?' look to which Springer returned with an 'I have no idea why you're looking at me like that' look which only made Prowl's look more disgruntled.

"I hate you," Prowl eventually said, "just so you know."

**Sandstorm, homecoming**

It was some time after Twin Twist and Scoop helped him up the ramp and Topspin waiting there to patch him up, somewhere between Broadside pushing a warm cube of energon into his hands and Roadbuster handling Sandstorm's debriefing while he soaked in a heated bath that the triplechanger realized this was what a family was like.

**Fireflight: bright**

He flickers across the sky, wings flashing in the sun as he chases the wind, sculpts wisps of clouds, weaves lines where heaven meets earth to create an endless sea of 'now' and 'perfect'.

**Perceptor/Blaster - Blaster showing Perceptor a good time**

Blaster should have known his idea of fun was far different from Perceptor's when the scientist proved to be more fascinated with the vibrational properties of the stereo instead of the music it was playing, but hey- Blaster was a flexible mech.

**Sideswipe/Brawn - Get away from me**

To hear that Sideswipe was involved in a chase that had a lot of threatening of violence, shrieking and swearing was no surprise; to see that it was Brawn chasing Sideswipe with a handful of rats, gleefully saying, "They only want to nest in you!" was... pretty disturbing.

**Wheeljack, Ratchet: that doesn't go there**

Wheeljack let out a puff of soot from his vents, then raised a disgruntled finger to the marginally scorched medic, "Okay, you were right, now shut up."

**Sandstorm, Starscream: handcuffs**

"Uh, Sandstorm, we're only supposed to _detain_ him, not mummify him with binds; don't you think that's enough?"

"He can still talk, trust me- it's not enough."

**Sideswipe, Wheeljack: things that go boom**

"And now that we've learned not to go into Wheeljack's lab without permission _or_ supervision," Prowl told the twitching mech in the charred remains of what was once a functional room, "I'm going to leave the lecture on messing with personal property as well as clean-up detail to Wheeljack."

**Sunstreaker, Wheelie: art and poetry**

Sunstreaker didn't normally agree to collaborate, but he wasn't above being inspired by others and he had to admit (only to those that would understand and there, on that backwater little dirt planet, were very few that did) that Wheelie could certainly weave tapestries with his words.

**A Dinobot, a Wrecker, an Aerialbot: a fine mess**

This is a joke: a Dinobot, a Wrecker and an Aerialbot walk into a bar; ten minutes later the entire block goes up in flames. The punch line is that this actually happened.

**Jazz, Sideswipe: Toys R Us**

They looked at the tiny robot figures that really weren't much bigger than a finger; Sideswipe said, "I'm disturbed" while Jazz said, "These are awesome!"

**Grimlock, Prowl: Chain**

Prowl made his last, desperate plea before his fellow officers, "I know our situation is bleak, but if you let Grimlock and his mechs loose, we will never be able to reign them back in; they'll be free and they will devastate anything that stands in their way and once they deem the Decepticons no longer a threat, what makes you think they won't turn on us for having kept them captive for so long?"

**Soundwave, Smokescreen: separated at birth**

Smokescreen would've been insulted if not for the fact he couldn't help admiring just how underhanded and manipulative Soundwave could be.

**Hound, Bumblebee: black out**

They cursed at the klaxons that sounded all around them, at the bodies that cleared the streets and the lights shutting off, like a wave of darkness that was overcoming them; they pressed themselves to the limit, not wanting to be caught as the only movement, the only sources of light in a sea of shadow when the Decepticon bombers hit the city.

**Roadbuster, Slingshot: I call it...**

The Aerialbot looked from the tiny, extremely low-tech pseudo-weapon in the Wrecker's hand, up to the Wrecker himself and glaring a fierce glare for one so much smaller. Roadbuster just shrugged and said, "That's what the humans call it- you want to take insult to it being named after you, bring it up with them."

**Skywarp, Broadside: oops**

Skywarp snarled, firing after a jinking Sandstorm who taunted, "You couldn't hit the broad side of a-" but whatever else was said was lost in the haze of a giant fist peeling out of his fuselage and as Skywarp fell out of the sky, he vaguely heard the Wrecker say, "Huh, guess he _can_ hit Broadside..."

**Skywarp, Sandstorm: getting even**

It's not something Skywarp likes doing often because it takes so much out of him every time, but warping himself and his tailing Autobot into a crowd of other Autobot jets (with Skywarp warping himself out while Sandstorm crashed into two others) was well worth the energy expenditure.

**Skywarp: helping hand**

The Autobots looked up at the dangling Decepticon, tangled helplessly in a net of branches and said, "Yeah, we'll help you right into a comfy cell."

**Skywarp: comfy cell**

The CO looked at the cell, at the Decepticon in the cell, then at the Autobots that were, supposedly, guarding him before asking in a very level, very deliberate tone, "Why is he sitting in a chair that suspiciously looks like it's from my office?"

"I... take it you want us to stop playing poker with him?"

**Skywarp: returning a favor**

No one really knew how he got out or how the Decepticons figured out where he was being held, but Skywarp's voice came over the PA system saying, "In return for the relaxing stay in your brig, I'm giving everyone here a two minute warning rather than my customary zero- we're blowing up your base so I suggest you dirt pounders run for it!"

**Skywarp: dismantling**

He looked at the enraged Starscream and said, "Well, if I wasn't supposed to mess with it, maybe you should've put it behind more than one lock!"

**Starscream: That is NOT what that is for**

The black jet tossed the ruined project over his shoulder, "You say that now, but if you never try it on new things, how do you know it won't work?"

**Jazz, Optimus: You know you love me anyways**

"One day," Optimus said, and he didn't know if he was amused or resigned, "your disarming smiles and double-talk isn't going to work on someone and I can only hope I'm there to see it happen."

**Jazz: Prowl, stop laughing** (sort of a follow up to the jazz/optimus one above)

When Prowl finally managed to get himself under control he wheezed out, "Oh, it's a pity Prime missed out," then he looked at Jazz's disgruntled, displeased expression and started snickering again, "good thing I recorded the moment!"

**Elita-1, Arcee: exasperating antics**

Elita came in, cursing the mechs and their stupid pranks and unprofessionalism and their existence in general until Arcee leaned over, patted her hand and said, "That's why I record their stupidity- for blackmailing posterity."

**Megatron, Soundwave: pokerface**

Soundwave was the perfect officer- complied with all his orders without complaint, anticipated what Megatron wanted, never let his emotions get the better of him, kept everyone from knowing just what he was thinking, what he was feeling, what he actually wanted from the Decepticons...

It also made Soundwave the most dangerous and was why Megatron kept him so close.

**Sandstorm, Fireflight: loyal as a dog**

The triplechanger wasn't entirely certain with how he felt about the comparison, but he finally settled with, "Fine, but I'm not going to be licking anyone's faceplates."

**Silverbolt, Springer: in-laws**

By the fifth time in as many days Silverbolt called to ask if Fireflight was on board Xantium, Springer said, "You know, I may as well just give you security access."

**Sandstorm, Fireflight: loyal as a dog**

The triplechanger wasn't entirely certain with how he felt about the comparison, but he finally settled with, "Fine, but I'm not going to be licking anyone's faceplates."

**Fireflight, Thundercracker: music**

Ever since he was given his sonic generator, Thundercracker had been told the sound was powerful, fearsome, oppressive, noisy, alluring but never had he been told it sounded beautiful.

**Prowl: Springer**

There are days when Prowl is not immaculate, when his carefully controlled bearing is marred by an errant flicker of a doorwing or his finger tapping against his desk; those days only seem to pause when a report comes in 'mission complete' and ends when he reaches, 'all accounted for and well'.

**Wreckers vs Spec Ops (pick a mech, any mech), pretendy-funtime-games.**

Well, Springer had to hand it to Jazz- roleplaying certainly did make briefings a lot more... _fun_.

**Springer: Prowl**

He only said it once, when he was so overcharged anyone else would've crashed and even then he made them swear up and down and threatened them mortal harm that this was never going beyond the room, beyond the circle of mechs, beyond that very _moment_ that he said it, "I'd tap that so long as he kept his damned smug mouth shut."

**Prowl, Sideswipe: in your face**

They waited patient, intent, gauging for any weakness and neither knew what action they were (hoping) expecting the other to take, just that they wouldn't be the one to break first.

**Prowl, Springer: bungee cords**

It wasn't so much the fact that Prowl's doorwings got tangled up the same cord that jammed up Springer's rotary assembly as it was the cords had _just_ enough give that every time they thought they could finally pull away, sensitive bit slammed back into sensitive bit and things were well on their way into turning embarrassing.

**Twins, Springer: You really shouldn't have**

"No, really," Springer turned to give them a 'what have I done to warrant _this_' look as a bound and gagged Prowl flopped irritably at his feet, "do you know how much he's going to rant when he gets free?"

**Arcee, Springer: couple's time**

They didn't get much time to spend together and every moment was precious and coveted, but even the times when Springer had just enough energy to drag himself to Arcee's quarters, to curl up next to her and let her systems lull him into recharge, she held those moments just as dearly as any other.

**Fireflight, Xantium: security**

It wasn't often any of the Wreckers went on missions without the entire squad, but sometimes it happened and as Fireflight sat on Sandstorm's berth, trying not to count the hours he was gone, Xantium tried to hum his loneliness away.

**Prowl, Twins- sparkmates**

Everyone said twins only had partial sparks, that a full spark was split between them; to Prowl, though, being with the two of them was far more overwhelming than anything he'd ever experienced.

**Prowl, Twins- love at first sight**

It wasn't the way he looked at made them fall in love, nor was it how he held himself or spoke to them or treated them with basic respect or had the hintings of wicked humor under his words- it was all those things together that kept them coming back for more.

**TF/Blue Beetle: meeting of the minds** (a series of crossovers, since it wasn't specified at first which blue beetle, the first prompt features one of both)

**Ted:**  
It took Booster's forcefield, J'onn's strength, Guy's ring and Tora freezing his boots to the floor of the Bug to finally pry Ted away from the super advanced giant robots long enough for the team to finally _leave_.

**Jaime and Scarab:**  
Jaime had figured that the Reach were a fierce, neigh unstoppable race that had fought the Green Lantern Corps to a standstill so when Scarab became meek and docile in the presence of these large, transforming robots, Jaime obviously had to ask and was surprised when Scarab replied /Race: Cybertronians, the first ones to destroy all of [Reach's] invasion attempts./

**Optimus, Scarab: wonder**

He'd have to remember to apologize to the human later, but Optimus Prime couldn't himself, communicating with the tech in the boy's back through frequencies far beyond human capabilities, fascinated as it explained how it became self-aware and rejected the Reach's programming.

**Perceptor, Scarab: being contrary**

Jaime couldn't help think a) Scarab needed better timing to display its new-found attitude, and b) his little sister was a terrible, terrible influence as the big robot scientist trying to address the Scarab in the boy's back was flabbergasted by the Scarab repeating everything he said.

**Ironhide, Jaime: partners in crime**

He felt kind of bad for the kid but... "The thing is attached to your spine," Ironhide told the boy on the other side of the bars, "unfortunately that means if we punish it for setting off the fire counter measures, we gotta punish you."


	46. Context Needed

I remember this thing exists? What madness is this? I still wouldn't say this series is active again, but at least I'm doing something with it?

Title: Context Needed  
Fandom: Transformers  
Rating: G  
Word Count: 400  
Characters: Springer, Prowl

The problem with knowing someone for a long time was that they generally knew your worst moments. The problem with knowing someone you've had a... tumultuous, to say the least, relationship with for a long time was they not only generally knew your worst moments but would also gleefully bring those moments up to put you at a disadvantage.

There were few that had as long or as tumultuous a history as Springer and Prowl, neither of which would hesitate to bring up said moments if it 1) supported their argument or 2) shut the other one up. But neither, thankfully, were malicious enough to go into detail. All they had to do was give a base or mission name and the other knew exactly what they were talking about, knew exactly what the point of bringing it up was and would just glare, helpless as the memory replayed in an instant in their heads.

"Deres Comet," got an embarrassed shifting.

"Holden Prison Transport," caused furious spluttering and an equally furious stomping retreat.

"Altihex riot," would get a jaw snapping shut and silent fuming.

"Thunderhead Pass," got silence and then a quiet withdraw from the argument.

Those names were never given freely. They were a last resort used only when one of them felt _that strongly_ about the matter at hand and once the name was invoked the other almost always gave in. Very few others understood what any of these things meant and whenever either Springer or Prowl were asked, they'd evade the question. They knew what the context was. No one else needed to know.

Sometimes, though... sometimes those names would be used in a very different situation to get a very different response. Springer stood by the starboard observation deck, hands clamp tightly against folded arms and staring out into nothing when Prowl found him. Every 'bot went hush, waiting for Springer's visible tension to explode into angry violence.

Prowl just leaned in close and said lowly, "Coda Pass" and Springer burst out laughing. He laughed so hard he had to brace against the bulkhead and everyone else stared at the two in abject confusion.

Eventually the laughter died down. Springer turned to Prowl with a broad grin, his engine hiccupping slightly, and said, "Thanks."

Prowl just smiled back mildly, nodded and went on his way. Sometimes knowing someone for so long wasn't always a bad thing.


	47. Mountain

Title: Mountain  
Fandom: Transformers  
Rating: G  
Word Count: 182  
Characters: Broadside

People are constantly surprised at just how big Broadside is. They know he's large- just looking at him is enough to note that -but the exact measurements tend to get lost most of the time. Even among the other Wreckers who have often seen him at his fullest, using his height, his girth, his extreme mass to overpower his enemies with fear and, should that not work, force. But outside of those times Broadside holds himself like a mountain: an easy stillness that causes the details of the space he occupies to fade into the background. There is no way to miss him, no way to not recognize his size but it's just peripheral static in the day-to-day and no one gives it much thought after a while.

He gets as much notice as a mountain because while large he's unaggressive. But when he feels the need to make his size- and thus himself -known, it catches people by surprise much like an avalanche on a still day and they realize too late how insignificantly small and helpless they are in comparison.


End file.
